


King's Crown and Cat's Foot

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Baking, Cats, Coffee Shops, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Familiars, Fluff, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Ixtal, League of Legends references, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Mild Angst, Panic Attacks, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, Spell Failure, Urban Fantasy, Vastaya, Witchcraft, Witches, crownshot is a hearth witch, failure - Freeform, loss of pets, ls is a cat shifter/ixtal, nemesis is a green witch, rated t for mild profanity, selfmade is a dog shifter/ixtal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 128,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: Tim has no familiar, any more, but maybe, just maybe, he'll find a new one soon. And Nick is barely keeping himself afloat in the midst of work and depression and anxiety and just generally being homeless.So, maybe, two problems can be solved at once.Flirting and teasing is the name of their game, and both Tim and Nick love playing it. Tim's affinity for cats brings him another pet, soon, in the form of a lovable yellow tabby and then a pretty calico. Though the calico cat doesn't get along particularly well with Nick, they make it work, and with closeness to Tim comes a friendship with Jus and Oskar, too.Nick starts to help at the shop, then moves in, all the while keeping his own magic - the ability to shift into a cat - a careful secret. He's been hurt for it before, after all. But what will he and Tim do when all is revealed?*additional plotlines to come!*
Relationships: Nick "LS" De Cesare/Tim "Nemesis" Lipovšek, Oskar "Selfmade" Boderek/Juš "Crownshot" Marušič, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 169
Kudos: 90





	1. Chamomile Latte

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy! witch-based slice of life with slow burn of a ship!

“Tim, get out of the garden, you have to help me!” Jus calls from within their little half-shop, half-house. He returns to frantically sweeping the broom into a rhythm in the living room, little sparks of magic flying from his fingertips through the open window as he simultaneously boils a thick, blue potion and sends the sponge to wash the dishes. “Tiiim, Oskar is going to be here in half an hour, come on!”

Tim just rolls his eyes. “What a guy, right? Honestly, he should calm down, the house isn’t even that dirty,” he grumbles to the white bryony. It sways gently, giggling with him, but waves him off. The white bryony is such a Jus-like plant, little mother of the garden that it is. Obediently, Tim gives it one more splash of water with a flick of his wrist, then brushes off his denim gardening skirt and dark jeans and meekly returns to the house. Just as he enters the door, he carefully plucks a handful of chamomile flowers to put in Jus's tea. He murmurs a thank-you to the plant, then closes the door, ears pricked to catch the last bits of plant-gossip for the next hour or so, since he’ll be stuck inside helping Jus clean up the shop and organise out whatever materials Oskar has brought them for their commercial potions. 

Right as the door closes, in the last moment that Tim can hear them, the catmint blurts out something about a new, strange neighbourhood stray cat, and both the proud lupine and fatherly rosemary bush chide it for its actions. In a way, Tim is both grateful and irked by their actions.

Grateful - because his own familiar, a clever cat named after a spell of legend, has passed recently. Buried just last week, actually. He knows the plants are only trying to protect him from the grief.

Irked - because he still loves cats, maybe even more now that a new pet could be the perfect familiar for him. Even disregarding the potential for a familiar, Tim loves cats. Any stray in the neighbourhood, at least the ones who know about the herbal witch and his shop and garden, knows that there is always a warm den with kitty food by the back doorstep. If it’s truly a new stray and not the catmint being forgetful, then Tim wants to meet this cat.

Unfortunately, it looks like he’ll have to clean house first. “Here, take Miss Molly and mop the kitchen,” Jus commands, handing Tim the mop that all three of the shop’s inhabitants agree is definitely possessed. It shakes in his hands, unhappy at being thrust about, so Tim dips it into the bucket of water and lets it do its thing. Though Jus and Oskar always have gripes with the mop fighting them - or in Jus’s case, fighting his magical control of household items - Tim thinks that the spirit in the mop is probably just some cantankerous old lady who wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of a house cleaned just the way she wanted, not even Death. Might as well let her do it. She’s more discerning than Tim would be, anyway.

“Miss Molly can do it herself,” Tim says drolly, waltzing back out into the living-room-turned-cafe, where Jus is frantically shelving all their stock from the day. An electric kettle whistles cheerily in the corner, so Tim shuts it off and pours some water out into Jus’s owl teapot, where loose black tea is already waiting to be rehydrated. When Jus isn’t looking, Tim adds in the handful of chamomile flowers. Hopefully, that will help mellow Jus out a bit, with the soothing magical energy of the fresh blooms.

When Tim turns back to face Jus, though, he’s immediately smacked across the cheek by a wet towel tossed at him. “Ach, sorry,” Jus curses, frantic sparks zipping between the tips of his fingers and all the chairs and tables in the room. “I think I missed like half of the tables, can you wipe them all down again? Sorry.” Once Jus is done talking, and after a quick murmur under his breath since controlling so many objects at once requires a bit more power than non-incantation magic, the chairs all push themselves into perfect positions at the tables, evenly spaced even after a long day of use. Tim marvels at how little tendrils of Jus’s magic flicker, half-visible in the fading sunset light, touching each chair and then withdrawing into Jus's own aura. It makes him a little jealous - his own magic could never be so strong, not without a powerful familiar, like the one he just lost...

Tim shakes his head to clear his mind.

With a sigh, he removes the wet cloth from his face, hoping it hasn’t dripped into his shirt or, gods forbid, his dark jeans which, while they don’t mind a little dirt and mud, would surely be disgusting to wear if soaked in water. He’s lucky - everything is dry except his cheek. Before he gets started, he takes a quick census of the room, hoping there’s not too much to do, since he’ll be staying up late to put away Oskar’s haul of supplies anyway. Actually… “Jusi, all the tables are clean. They’re all drying off.”

“Oh. I guess I didn’t forget.” 

In the kitchen one room over, something raps against the wall twice. “Miss Molly is finished,” Tim murmurs, taking the opportunity to sneakily tuck the relatively clean towel in one of his many gardening-skirt pockets.

“Miss Molly?” Jus asks in confusion. Then, “Oh, fuck, the kitchen!” he hisses, “I forgot about Adam’s potion!” He rushes past all the tables back to the kitchen, though not without the towel flying from Tim’s pocket into Jus’s hand. “Nice try, but this is a kitchen towel,” Jus says as he runs. Tim rolls his eyes.

Foiled again.

Thankfully for Jus, it would seem that Miss Molly shut off the stove before the gloppy blue potion could burn. While Jus bottles that up and sets it aside for Aleksii to pick up tomorrow, Tim pours out a cup of tea for Jus, adds plenty of creamy milk froth for a more decadent treat and sets it on the serving counter to cool for a bit, then tends to his indoors windowsill of succulents. He’s already cared for their brethren outside. Only the agave needs water, so he gives it a good soaking, then checks them all for any sign of mites. They haven’t told him of any trouble in their peculiar, childlike voices, but they’re all rather young, so Tim double-checks anyway. Thankfully, it turns out that they’re fine. They squeak at him as if to say “We told you so!” and Tim just smiles, leaving them to chatter - after all, he’s more than just a garden-keeper, he’s also the keeper of Jus's health for as long as Oskar, Jus's dear dog-ixtal and familiar and boyfriend, is on the hunt for those rare potion ingredients that only grow in the wild.

The journey to wherever Jus has wandered off to is thankfully not far - he happens to bring the potion to its rightful home among the other pre-ordered potions under the counter just as Tim finishes caring for the succulents in the nursery. Before Jus can run off to do something else that he decides simply must be done immediately, Tim grabs his shoulders and sits him down.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chides when Jus starts to stand up again, “sit.”

“I have to clean the bedroom, there’s potion recipes and books scattered everywhere!” Jus protests, trying again to stand.

Tim’s weight against his shoulders proves to be a strong deterrent, though, keeping Jus in his seat. “You also have to take some time for yourself. Didn’t you promise Oskar you would look after yourself while he was gone?” Tim chides, not afraid to use Jus's boyfriend’s influence and guilt-trip Jus into relaxing, just for a little while.

Jus sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

“So drink some tea and take a break. Besides, you’ll both be too horny after whatever date you go on tonight to notice the state of the room, anyway.”

A glower hits Tim, but the green witch just giggles while his hearth witch friend pouts. “Shut up,” Jus says. Still, he sips his tea regardless, and Tim can see the power of chamomile’s relaxation hit him, mostly due to Jus's glare. “There’s chamomile in this, isn’t there?” Jus accuses with a raised eyebrow as he takes another sip.

The little smirk on Tim’s face tells Jus everything he needs to know.

“Gods,” Jus mutters, “one of these days you’re going to poison me and I won’t even notice.”

He drinks more of the tea, though, and Tim is happy to see Jus visibly loosen up from the stress of the day and of wanting everything to be perfect for his boyfriend’s return. “Aw,” he says with a soft smile, “I would never. Oskar would tear my throat out.”

“He would,” Jus giggles, “he would…” He drinks some more and hums happily.

“Did he tell you what time to expect him at?” Tim asks, taking a seat next to Jus and drinking some water.

“Mmm, I haven’t checked my phone in a while,” Jus murmurs, pulling his phone from a pocket in his plaid skirt. His eyes go wide as soon as he turns it on.

“Lots of messages?”

“You could say that.” Hurriedly, Jus starts to scroll while Tim watches, half-amused, half-sickened by how adorably lovesick his two best friends are for each other. “Ah, I even missed a call,” Jus says with an apologetic giggle.

“A call? Gods, he’s needy.” They share a laugh at Oskar’s expense - not like he’ll know, though, so does it really even matter?

As he scrolls through presumably more messages, Jus smiles softly. Any onlooker would be able to tell he’s in love right now, with that expression on his face. In a matter of moments, though, Jus's smile morphs into shock and panic.

“What’s-”

“Shit!” Jus shrieks, standing up so fast that the only reason his chair doesn’t fall over and his cup doesn’t spill is his unconscious magic, “Oskar’s gonna be here in two minutes!”

“So wh-”

“Tim, wait, do I look okay? There’s not anything in my hair, is there?” Jus blabbers, frantically patting down his skirt and casual but chic long-sleeved top, brushing away invisible crumbs from the day’s work as he goes. You would think they'd been apart for more than three days by the way Jus acts.

Momentarily, Tim’s eyes flicker to the front door, conveniently at Jus's back, as it slowly and silently swings open to reveal a blue-eyed, smirking idiot who at the very least is smart enough to hold the bell over the door still to prevent his presence from being given away. Tim grins as Oskar sets down his bags and gestures at Tim with a finger over his lips.

“Tim, gods help me, pay attention or I’ll hex your fucking toothbrush - do you think he’ll like this outfit?”

Tim’s eyes roll once more. “I don’t know, I’m not a fucking mind-reader,” he snorts with derision. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

“Yeah, Jusi, why don’t you just ask me?” echoes the voice of that blue-eyed dog-ixtal behind Jus.

Jus practically hurdles the tables just to get into Oskar’s arms faster. As Tim chuckles at their ostentatious display of love, Oskar lifts Jus up with strong arms around his waist and swings Juš around, making Jus's bell sleeves flutter. Jus shrieks and giggles with delight even as Oskar sets him down to kiss him.

Tim scrunches up his nose. But the two lovebirds don’t even have time to notice his playful disdain, so caught up in each other are they. “Okay, okay, take it to your room, honestly,” he complains loudly after having to watch altogether too much of their makeout for his innocent eyes.

“No time, we have a reservation in 10 minutes,” Oskar says, overly cheery. He whisks a blushy Jus out of the door in a hurry, leaving Tim to take all the bark and sticks and boughs and fungi from the three big bags and put them into their proper storage jars. 

Though Oskar and Jus are outside of the shop in the dusky light, the shop’s sign, a large, glowing crown hand-charmed by the two Jespers on the next street over, bathes them in warm light, so Tim can see them hugging each other between the two blackhaw trees for which their shop is named.

“ ‘m glad you’re home,” Tim can hear through the closed door and the cracked-open windows.

Gods, forget everything else, that’s the most adorably sickening thing Tim has heard today. “Get lost,” he mutters through the window and blackhaw leaves.

Jus and Oskar giggle like teenagers caught together past curfew, but do indeed bustle away to wherever they’ll be having their date. Tim smiles after them.

His friends are painfully cute, but he’s glad Jus found a good boyfriend. Jus, in all his overworking stress, deserves it.

In the meantime, Tim drags the bags into their pantry and begins to sort each item as per usual - wormwood into its jar, buckthorn hung in bundles, assorted wildflowers into books to press and dry, Chinese sumac bundled and hung as well, elder branches stocked up in an easy place for Oskar to access so he can whittle more wands… There’s a lot to organise, but it’s all well-worth the time. After all, these simple, unassuming ingredients can easily transform a simple cookie recipe into a way to spread positivity, or black tea into a drink that can soothe even the most frazzled of nerves. Magical, isn’t it?

Once all the herbs and branches are stored away, it’s time for a little extra upkeep. The plants out front need watering, thanks to the July heat, and the sign in front of their shop needs to be erased and redone before tomorrow. Tim carries a few jugs of water along with his pruning shears, with the help of his magic, of course. One jug each goes to the two young but strong blackhaw trees by the shop’s doors - king’s crown, these trees were called, back when witching was knowledge reserved for the few, and the practice of magic had to be kept secret. Nowadays anyone can learn magic, so the names of plants for spells is common knowledge. Still, Jus is such a nerd that he named his shop after those old witching names - King’s Crown and Cat’s Foot. As for the cat’s foot, it’s ground ivy, growing around the bases of the two trees, and it’s also a tribute to the cat that lived alongside Tim for all the years he can remember, the pet that became a familiar that became Tim’s teacher and guide, both in magic and in life.

And now she’s gone.

Tim sighs and checks over the blackhaw trees and ivy leaves with a frown on his face, then bids them goodnight and carries the chalkboard folding sign inside along with the empty water jugs and his shears. The sun can no longer be seen around the other buildings, though the sky is still fairly bright. With absent-minded repetition, his hands wipe the signboard clean and rewrite their shop name and seasonal specials. It’s easy work, but something about it feels harder now that there’s so much silence in the shop. The young succulents generally doze off by now, and Dracarys isn’t there to make amiable small-talk with.

A quiet grumble from Tim’s stomach alerts him to his hunger once he’s done with his task, so he grabs one of the sandwiches that hadn’t sold that day and takes it into the garden for a munch while he relaxes in the presence of his companions.

Before he even gets to his little spot, the perfect size for him to lie down among plants in a place that no one would know where to find him unless they were looking, the rosemary asks him if he heard what the catmint said that morning.

Tim shrugs and nods and explains to his garden that he doesn’t mind. Yes, he does still miss Dracarys, but he would also love to meet a new stray. 

The catmint giggles smugly and the lupine scoffs, but Tim can tell the whole garden is happy he’s happy. Even the grumbly old blackberry bush seems to be a bit less gruff. The garden resumes its chatter, then, uninhibited by their worry for their dear caretaker, and Tim finishes his sandwich with an ever-so-slight smile while listening to five different stories from around the town at once. Morning glories and snapdragons and passionflower all sway and dance in the gentle evening breeze. Chrysanthemums and edelweiss chatter from their homes on the third level of Tim’s tower of plants in the middle of his garden. Everyone has a friend, here.

At some point throughout the hazy, comfortable silence-that-isn’t, though, the clover finds a new one. One of its blooms, poking out through the fence at the back of the garden, chirps a warning.

A stray cat is approaching. Tim’s heart leaps in his throat, and, as he jumps into action, he admits to himself that maybe he does miss Dracarys even more than he says.

He scurries back into the kitchen to grab a tin of Dracarys’s cat food, thankfully not expired by a long shot, and pours the wet, nutritious mush into a bowl, then hurries back outside to place the bowl by a constantly-refilling water dish in the spare den Tim has always kept outside for cats without a home. The plants urge him on, calling out the location of the cat as it draws closer and closer to the plot with Tim’s garden. Even the sleepy currant bush gets in on the fun. Once everything is in place, Tim lies back down in his home among the leaves, waiting for the cat to come and eat.

Slowly, shyly, carefully, cautiously, the cat peeks its head into the gap in the fence, lulled into a sense of security by the absence of Tim’s footsteps - though Tim has to stifle a gasp when he sees the poor thing, covered in so much dirt and grime that it couldn’t possibly hope to clean itself on its own. And it looks so thin and cold, shaking in the cool night air! It breaks Tim’s heart.

Lured by the smell of food, the cat slinks along the fence towards the bowl. Just as stealthily, Tim sits up for a better look at it.

This time he can’t stop a quiet whimper of sympathy for the scrawny, dirty cat, with just a hint of pure-white ear tips and a pure-white tail tip and beautiful ginger-tabby fur under all the mud and muck of the streets. That noise is Tim’s mistake.

Terrified by the noise and the sight of a human, the cat darts away, but not before scarfing down a good chunk of the cat food in the small bowl, and really, Tim is just glad it’s gotten something to eat. The poor thing looked half-starved.

Aimlessly, Tim flops back down onto his little plot of grass amid the flowers and foliage of his garden. The lemon tree, one of the few plants tall enough to see over the fence, makes a quiet statement that the cat is still present, hiding behind the fence, afraid of Tim but not so afraid that he’s run away. Free to speak of cats in Tim’s presence once more, the catmint regals him with gossip about the mysterious stray’s origins, supposedly as a criminal ixtal on the run. Tim snorts in derision. The lemon tree, helpful as always, does mention that it had seen the cat come around Tim’s home for a while, now, looking forlorn and shy. Other plants corroborate the sightings. Might be a domestic cat, then, one that has gotten lost or run away or maybe even abandoned. If Tim waits long enough, it will probably return.

After a while of Tim laying peacefully, non-threateningly sprawled out in the garden, the yellow cat with dirt-matted fur feels confident enough to try sneaking past him again to get to the rest of the food. This time, Tim stays still until the cat has mostly finished eating, then slowly sits up. It eyes him warily, but takes the time to lick the bowl clean.

Softly, Tim makes a little noise, a cross between kissing and clicking, as he holds out one hand, and slowly, oh so slowly, the thin yellow cat with its white-tipped ears and white-tipped paws and white-tipped tail creeps closer, sniffing for the slightest hint of malice in Tim’s aura. Finding none, it takes step after cautious step until it butts its head against Tim’s outstretched hand.

A gentle smile crests over Tim’s face. “There you go, kitten, you’re safe here,” he murmurs in low, soothing tones. He gives the cat a delicate chin-rub. Something about that touch must have had Jus's brand of heart-warming magic in it, something special and uniquely comforting, because the cat seems to implicitly trust Tim after that and prances closer and closer to Tim’s lap until, almost before Tim realises, it is curled up in his lap. It still trembles, but it trembles less, now that its body is nestled in the midst of Tim’s folded legs with warmth and safety gathered all around it.

Still moving slowly so as not to startle the delicate little creature in his lap, Tim pulls out a garden towel from one of his many pockets. This one was probably washed at the start of the week - it’s a touch damp, but certainly not muddy or grimy like the other towels. With gentle hands, remembering all the times he’d groomed his belated familiar, Tim begins to wipe the dirt and dust out of the cat’s fur, every motion full of the deepest care, mimicking the pattern a mama cat would use when grooming her babies. The cat looks up at him with wide brown eyes, and Tim cooes at it, scratching behind its ears as more and more of its fur returns to a soft yellow-tabby pattern, rather than the dusty, dirty brown from before. By the time the sun sinks below the horizon - the emerging stars surely delighting Rasmus from the apartment building down the street - the cat is mostly clean, or at least, clean as far as Tim can see in the dim fairy-lights of his garden.

It purrs weakly, and Tim has never felt so proud.

Even his magic feels energised by the cat’s presence, and Tim pets it gently, not even caring that his hands are picking up the last traces of dust hidden within the cat’s fur. He strokes its back and scratches its shoulders, and when it purrs at him more strongly, Tim can’t help but smile and aww at it, to which the cat responds by playfully batting at the rag in Tim’s other hand. Tim chuckles. It reminds him of playing with Dracarys, when she was just a kitten. Tim smiles and dangles the rag in the air for the cat to play with, though it only toys with the cloth a few times before settling back down in Tim’s lap, and Tim holds it carefully in his warmth. Caring for plants is comforting, but there will always be something uniquely relaxing about holding a small creature and keeping it safe and happy.

Smiling, he scritches the cat’s scruff, and it purrs back at him.

At some point along the night’s passing, Tim falls asleep, sitting there with a cat in his lap in his garden, warm enough in the July night. He doesn’t wake up until Jus and Oskar return much later, when Jus runs into the garden to shake him awake and drag him back inside. Unfortunately, the cat’s scrabbling in his lap wakes Tim up more than any of Jus's efforts. It darts away into the hedges at the back of Tim’s garden at the sight and scent of Jus and Tim wonders if it was also sleeping. There’s no point in waiting outside any longer, since he always needs a good night’s sleep lest he forget to water his plants the next day or fall asleep while tending to customers in the front of the shop. Quietly, Tim sighs. Poor thing - the cat probably doesn’t get to feel so safe and well-fed very often.

“I scared it, didn’t I?” Jus asks quietly. 

Tim nods and rubs at his sleepy eyes. 

“He’ll be back tomorrow. Go take a shower and then go to bed,” Jus insists, still holding Oskar’s hand, and Tim nods again and bustles off to do so. It’s already late. Cats may be partially nocturnal, but Tim certainly isn’t. He checks his little nursery of seedlings on his windowsill absentmindedly, looking out the window, ready to fall asleep. Already he can hear Oskar and Jus giggling through the walls, probably murmuring all sorts of things to each other that would make Tim gag mockingly at them, and Tim hopes with all his heart that they at least won’t be noisy tonight.

Just before he lays himself down for the night, he runs back downstairs and sets out a spare cat-bed in the outside den along with a bit of extra food and fresh water so any visitors will be full, happy, and comfortable. Hopefully, soon, the cat will return.

In the meantime, Tim sandwiches his head between two pillows to block out the highly suspicious noises coming from Jus and Oskar’s room.

\---

Gorgeous portraits of Selfmade and Crownshot! Thank you so much to @hannivanillie on Twitter! 


	2. Black Coffee and a Vanilla Iced Mocha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day is as long as ever - Tim has a range of duties he needs to perform, so the shop can keep running smoothly. But between going shopping and caring for his garden and making potions, he still finds time for an adorable tabby cat.

When Tim wakes up the next morning, he’s almost more excited that he would be even for Midwinter. He changes his sleepwear for a sensible pair of lighter-coloured jeans, since today will be sunny, and an equally pale top - still with sleeves, though, else he get another horrible sunburn and have Oskar call him a lobster for days afterwards. After clothing is taken care of and his basic hygienic needs are met, Tim scurries to the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cat’s presence before it takes off for the day again.

“In a rush?” Juš asks him with a sleepy yawn from their little sofa in the scant space between the two bedrooms and the stairs leading down into the shop.

“Wanna see the cat,” Tim responds, equally sleepy but also not keen on watching Juš paint concealer over the plentiful bruises on his neck. He carries a tin of cat food with him and quickly opens it in the kitchen, then pokes his head slowly out from the door to the garden and-

Ah.

No cat in sight.

The rosemary helpfully tells him that the cat had appreciated the food and shelter, and consumed both with great delight, but had bustled off before the sun rose. Tim sighs and scoops the wet food into the cat dish. It’s a familiar task, soothing and rhythmic, and it reminds him of a time just a month ago when this was a part of his routine. Once he’s scraped the tin clean, he makes sure to set it at the edge of his garden, by the fence - just in case an unknown animal comes to feast - then washes his hands and settles in for the early morning’s work of preparing all the necessary ingredients for the day. He grinds coffee and refills the milk and cream pitchers and has just begun to mix some of yesterday’s blueberries with sugar for the blueberry pies when Juš and Oskar come down the stairs to help. Luckily for them, Tim has already set the coffee machine in motion, and it gurgles out fresh coffee just in time for Juš and Oskar to have a cup before they, too, help prepare the day’s food ingredients. Tim lets them take over the cafe kitchen. It’s time for him to tend to those few of his plants picky enough to require watering at dawn, with sun-infused water because they’re so demanding. He sets out an extra jar of water with a few herbs to absorb Leona’s magic from the Sun; in exchange, the rosebush gives him a begrudging approval for both his prudence and the solar magic it soaks in through its leaves and roots with the water. 

Tim, of course, has more duties to tend to for the shop itself. But first, a quick check on the cat food bowl.

Some of it is missing, which hopefully means the cat came back, but the creature itself is nowhere in sight. Hoping the luck found within bamboo might help his case, Tim scurries back inside and rustles through his equipment in the cellar, withdraws a small bamboo mat, and lays it under the food bowl to protect the cat with its magical properties.

Then, the bell tower two streets over strikes six in the morning, and Tim must hurry back inside so he isn’t late to the market. Juš is helping their first customers of the day: a remarkably alert Bae-in with a big, grey, half-asleep eagle-owl in his arms. “Black coffee and an iced mocha,” Bae-in says as per usual, then- “vanilla in the mocha, too, please,” he adds with a little laugh, ruffling his owl’s feathers with affection. It cooes sleepily and grumpily at him.

Tim bustles upstairs to his room to get his market basket before he tears up at Bae-in and his familiar.

He really misses Dracarys.

But it’s no matter, even if he’s still not used to going to the market without her; he’ll see her at Hallow’s Eve if the spirits are willing, and, if Yuumi blesses him, Tim will have a new familiar soon enough. With that thought, he adds sweetgrass to his list of herbs to buy at the market today, for its magic in attracting familiars. It’s never too early to start making offerings to Yuumi in Dracarys’s name, and the process of building a small shrine in his garden is probably one of those other things Juš would recommend for him to grieve for Dracarys properly while not lingering for too long.

“Going to the market,” Tim says to Juš on his way out, grabbing his favourite hat with its wide black brim and a characteristic dent in the point.

“Don’t forget to buy sweet peppers!” Juš calls. Tim nods, then hurries off with his basket in hand.

It’s not a long walk, but going without company makes it feel much longer than before. He nods hello to a few passing friends - other than those brief interactions, the only voices he hears are from the grasses and trees along the sidewalk and the street murmuring morning greetings and gossiping as per usual.  _ Have you seen the cat? _ he asks, trusting in the plants to recognise the cat of whom he speaks.

Some of them murmur yes, others murmur no. All of them chuckle and promise to keep an eye out, so Tim affectionately runs his fingers along the leaves of the hedges and pats the trunks of the trees on his way to the market.

Even when there, though, he doesn’t quite feel right. He’s learned a good many things over his training as a green witch, and he’s certainly not clueless when it comes to selecting ingredients with the most magical potential, but something just seems off. He finds himself questioning his choices more than a few times.

It’s to be expected, he supposes, now that Dracarys isn’t here to reassure him.

In any case, he makes his purchases quickly, at the market, and hurries home - his plants are eagerly awaiting their watering and weeding and care, and though Tim may be sad, he still is the sole caretaker of all the plants in his garden, so he’ll have to keep up.

He returns to the shop with his basket full, setting it on the table in their private kitchen while Juš and Oskar serve drinks for the early-morning crowd at the shop counter, working in perfect harmony as a witch-familiar pair. Juš will later decide what to do with Tim’s purchases, so Tim takes the sweetgrass he had bought for himself and escapes the busy shop to return to the comfort of his garden. He sets the bundle of sweetgrass aside for now and ties his gardening skirt on, ready to get down to business. Plant by plant, he tends to his garden, watering each in turn with a combination of a garden hose, a watering can, and water manipulation by magic, with a delicate touch so as not to underwater or overwater any plant. As thanks, they chatter to him, much kinder than people typically are, going on and on about the weather and new plants and the bird family in the yew tree in the cemetery and something Alfonso, the much more advanced green witch who lives further down the street, is cooking up. Who needs people when the plants can deliver him all the news of the city? Tim would much rather spend time with these plants than most anyone other than Juš and Oskar and Tim’s own brother.

It’s not that people are rude - just that Tim doesn’t have the best experiences with most, and he’s not naturally good with people like Juš or Oskar are, so he stays in his garden unless they have a desperate need for more help. Besides, he’s most useful in the garden, anyway. Here, he collects extra ingredients from his own plants, some more lavender and borage and tarragon to dry before the plants go to seed, and some lemons his lemon tree tells him are ready to go. The lemon tree might be his favourite plant, though he would of course never say that to any of the other plants who chatter and sway in the garden like a flock of energetic children. It is tall, and gentle, and playful, and with a sharp wit that it isn’t afraid of. Tim likes pruning its branches and plucking a handful of leaves to make lemon-leaf tea, and picking lemons for lemonade. On top of it all, the lemon tree is a kindred spirit, always watching, always patient, always there.

White bryony may be motherly, and rosemary may be fatherly, and the chickweed may be childlike, and the snapdragons like a cheerful little sister, but the lemon tree? It’s a plant after Tim’s own nature.

Having collected what he needs from the hedges and trees at the back of the garden, Tim and his baskets move from section to section of the garden, the baskets floating behind Tim with a hefty bit of magic flowing to them from Tim’s hands. Bit by bit, he harvests herbs to dry, leaves for potions and wards and sachets, and berries and flavourings for the shop’s drinks. As he does so, he makes sure to thank each plant for their magical gifts, and they cheerfully thank him for caring for them since they were seedlings. He has a pleasant conversation with the irises about the warmth of the weather and a chat over his personal witching strength with the mugwort, which offers him a handful of extra stalks to dry for protective, strengthening wards in the house, and so many more little talks with the plants as he trims them and cultivates them. When he’s done, he has two baskets full of fresh blueberries and herbs and flowers and leaves, and he takes them into the kitchen to begin making potions and sachets. 

The first lull in their shop’s business comes about an hour after the lunch rush. Tim is in the process of bottling the strength and wisdom potions he’d made batches of, pouring the proper amount into each bottle and adding dried chicory flowers to the strength potion and sunflower petals to the wisdom potion when Juš walks in.

With a deep sigh, Juš stretches and sits at their kitchen table. “Busy?” he asks.

“Yes,” Tim answers, trying his hardest to not spill any drops of the potion he’d worked hard on. 

“Well, put your work down and eat with me! We’ve both been on our feet all day,” Juš says. He gets up from where he had sprawled out over his chair to grab leftovers from the fridge - a nice, quick meal.

Mocking Juš with an overexaggerated sigh, Tim bottles up the last of the potions and sets the two cauldrons into the sink to be rinsed out after lunch, and he grabs a sandwich to eat, then sits down with Juš. Upon biting into his lunch, Tim finds that he’s actually rather hungry.

“Tim, for Zyra’s sake, don’t eat so fast or you’ll choke.”

Tim gives Juš an unimpressed glare, but chews his food more thoroughly.

They eat together in comfortable silence while Oskar handles the few customers they have right now and Tim surveys the herbs hanging to dry from the ceiling. “Has the cat come back yet?” Juš wonders between bites of salad.

“Hm. Haven’t checked.” Maybe the cat really is back already - Tim hadn’t checked the food bowl before he came inside, so perhaps it ate, then returned to wherever its home is. In any case, Tim is excited simply by the prospect of having another cat around.

“I have a feeling it’ll be back soon enough,” Juš concludes. He gives Tim a few reminders about infusing the potions with solar magic, then scarfs down the last bite of his salad and hurries back out to the shop counter to help Oskar, even though Oskar probably doesn’t need any help. Tim can’t blame Juš for wanting to be around his boyfriend and familiar, anyway. Owning a business is hard, even when it’s a little shop well-loved by everyone in the area. Juš really doesn’t take the time off that he should. As long as he’s with Oskar, though, Tim knows Juš will be well cared-for and energised and loved.

Knowing that your friends are in gentle, strong, capable hands is a good feeling.

If only Tim had someone like that.

But he is, still, a bit hopeless, and he’s not afraid to admit it to himself and the plants when he returns to the garden, leaving the kitchen window open so he can murmur magic spells to levitate the potions into the garden and onto a rack, where the sunlight can infuse them with energy and radiance and even more strength. Tim is a bit hopeless when it comes to romance, no matter how many times Juš tries to help him with confidence potions and love-attracting rituals. When they were young teens anxious for a taste of romance, love magic had been thrilling. By now, though, Tim is a little bit over it.

It is what it is. He has plenty of plants to keep him company, anyway; and he can always adopt a colony of cats and be one of those witches that lives alone in the woods and fends for themself with the help of the colony, anyway; and he’s young, anyway; and he doesn’t have to go searching just because his friends have found true love so young, anyway. Would he like someone? Yes. Would he like someone who is his familiar and his companion and his love, the way Juš has Oskar? Yes. Would he like someone who can work magic alongside him, who can teach him things he doesn’t know and who would love to learn about Tim’s vast knowledge of plants? Yes, of course.

But he doesn’t  _ need  _ them. All he needs is his plants and a familiar.

With that thought, Tim picks up his gardening skirt from where he’d laid it on the arm of their little porch swing and he ties it around his waist. The dandelions, bless their little hearts, have been spreading lately, and, while Tim can’t possibly find a use for all of them, what he cannot harvest he will replant in a special garden pot, designated for them and with a handy bit of fine-mesh netting over it, to prevent their seeds from taking root all over his garden. 

Back to work it is.

Simple work, but work nonetheless. It distracts him enough, drawing him into quiet chatter with the plants that need to be moved as well as those that stay in the same spot their entire lives. In fact, it distracts him so much that he doesn’t notice the cat’s return until it noses his hand not once, not twice, but four times.

“Oh! Sorry, kitty,” Tim murmurs, slowly lifting his hand to pet the cat without it getting scared. “Thought you were a leaf or something.”

It meows at him and sniffs at his hands, so Tim holds out a dandelion for it to smell as well. A bit of pollen clings to its nose and the cat sneezes adorably, and Tim carefully sits down to gather the cat back into his arms until it gets the pollen out of its nose.

“Aww, silly,” Tim murmurs. He scratches the cat’s back and gives it plenty of attention and love, only barely refraining from squeezing it to his chest and giving it kisses. Ultimately, Tim doesn’t really know where this cat has been, or if it’s really, truly clean and healthy, so he shouldn’t get overly touchy, but if the cat is trusting and willing then he can take it to Bae-in’s practise, maybe in a week or two, for a checkup.

Quietly, the cat mews again and nuzzles Tim’s thigh, rubbing its face against his hands and lap, still making little noises like conversation as it lays there. Tim cooes back to it, smiling all the while. It’s so nice to simply have a cat with him.

After a little while of the cat sitting peacefully in his lap, it hops up and out, padding away on light feet through the garden, apparently distracted by a bird of maybe just restless. Before it leaves the garden through the back fence, it headbutts Tim’s hand again. He obligingly gives it a little head-pat.

Then, it slinks through the plants and the fence and is off to more adventures.

So, back to work it is.

It’s the hottest part of the day, so Tim works in the shade as best as he can while he pulls up dandelions and out-of-place clover. Bit by bit, he neatens up his garden, the same way he has for the entire summer, each day. Jušt like the other work in his garden, it’s a nice, peaceful routine that also gives him something easy to focus on instead of having to work in the shop and worry about all the little details of the job all the time. Keeping his hands busy, Tim lets his mind wander again, between thoughts of Dracarys and new memories made with the stray cat. Once he’s cleaned up all the weeds he can see, he sighs with satisfaction. Time for a quick break.

“Are you doing okay?” Juš asks during their second lull of the day, having left the shop for a bit. The only customers in the building are two high-schoolers, probably on their first date by how awkward they look together, so Oskar has again taken over and pushed Juš out to have a break.

Tim just shrugs and follows Juš inside. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he answers flippantly, using his magic to relocate more weeds into their pot even as he sits with Juš at their kitchen table.

“You know what I mean,” Juš says with a sip of his iced tea.

Again, Tim shrugs. “I’m… getting through.” Recovering from Dracarys’s death won’t be easy, or quick, but Tim… Tim is getting there.

At that answer, Juš smiles - it’s progress, at the very least. “Any more dreams?” he pries ever so slightly, with a look of worry and concern in his eyes.

“Only one,” Tim says. “It’s the same one. I’m holding her in my lap,” he begins, “and she purrs, but it doesn’t sound right,” his voice shudders, “and I scratch the side of her neck the way she liked it most and she’s gone.” He tries to sound nonchalant, almost flippant as he speaks, but it’s difficult.

Tim has always been rather proud of his stoicism. Very few people can tell when he’s emotional - he had made sure of that, after all he went through in secondary school.

Still, he’s not ashamed to admit he bawled his eyes out when they buried Dracarys.

He doesn’t cry now, but Juš - Juš has known him since they were just little kids, Juš knows he might cry, that he’s terribly close to tears even if the only indication is a sad twitch of his lips, and Juš gently hugs him and pats his back and ruffles his hair. “Do you want a potion?” he asks quietly, a suggestion for a friend and not a recommendation the way Juš might advise one of his customers. “I can make one for you. Lavender, marjoram, raspberry and rosemary?”

“I can get through this,” Tim says, both to himself and to Juš. He doesn’t need a sleeping potion to get him through the night, truly, he doesn’t.

“I know you can,” Juš replies with a soft chuckle, “but there’s nothing wrong with help from a little magic.”

“I think the dreams have a value to them,” Tim says after a long pause of contemplation. “She… she was always looking out for me. I don’t want to miss what she says.”

Softly, Juš sighs and nods. He pats Tim’s back once more and unwinds his arms from around Tim. “I think that’s a good choice,” he says at last. “If you want to talk - you know Oskar and I are here, and Sebbe is just a phone call away.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees quietly. 

“We’re here for you, Tim,” says Juš with a heartfelt smile. With a little chuckle, Tim smiles back in appreciation, and Juš asks, “want a quick drink before you’re back out in the garden?”

“I wouldn’t mind a blueberry fizz.”

“Only if you picked more blueberries to replace all that syrup!” Juš jokes. He ruffles Tim’s hair happily and Tim smiles back at him, feeling more refreshed already, with the weight of the grief still on him but lighter now that someone else shares the load. After Juš returns with Tim’s summer drink of choice, second only to lemonade, Tim sips his blueberry-syrup-sparkling-water drink and boils more blueberries in sugar for the delicious syrup they need to restock. The motions of cooking, while not something Tim is naturally talented at like Juš, are still slow, soothing, simple, and still repetitive enough for Tim to get lost in thought about Dracarys’s little meows of reassurance and yowls for courage and headbutts of love and affection. He’s thinking about Dracarys’s best pieces of advice to him over the years when he hears it.

“Mew?”

It takes Tim a moment to recognise what the sound is.

“Mrrew?”

Is the cat back?

“Meeeeeewww!”

Quickly, Tim turns down the heat on the stove so the syrup won’t burn, and he rushes to the window to see what’s outside, casting them open with a flick of his wrists and a bit of magic to help.

Teetering on the backrest of the porch swing, there stands the cat, mewing and scrabbling for purchase on the smooth wood. It wobbles back and forth as the swing moves, though it tries to steady itself to pounce onto the windowsill, and Tim smiles for a moment before lending a helping hand. With his help in holding the swing still, the cat manages to leap up through the window and land on the countertop. It doesn’t climb down, doesn’t stray far from the window that leads to the freedom of the outside world, and Tim doesn’t close off the cat’s main escape lest it panic, but it does perch comfortably in the kitchen, finding itself a place free of splashes of water and a safe distance away from the hot stove and syrup. Quite an intelligent cat, actually - for a moment Tim wonders if the catmint’s gossip had merit. Maybe it really is an ixtal, one of those magical races known for their ability to shapeshift from an animal into a human and back again. Maybe it’s a cat-ixtal, the same way Oskar is a dog-ixtal.

But that’s nonsense. Or, if it’s not nonsense, it’s a silly thing to think about. This cat is probably just a very clever one, well-trained by its previous owners and stray life in the city. Tim gives it a little scratch behind the ears before washing his hands and returning to cooking the blueberry syrup, at last taking it off the heat and adding a splash of lemon juice while the cat watches. He quickly bottles up the syrup, affixing a blue ribbon to the bottle’s neck as its label, then leaving the bottle on the counter where Juš will see it. The cat cocks its head at Tim curiously. Tim rubs its shoulder.

It’s so cute how it pays attention to everything Tim does. 

Since he has no further duties inside, at the moment, and it’s a little while longer before he has to cook dinner, Tim decides to go outside, back into his garden to play with the cat and make sure it’s well-fed. Unfortunately, there’s no door that goes directly from the kitchen to the garden, so Tim has to walk through the shop, but hopefully the cat won’t run away.

Instead of leaping out of the window as Tim leaves the kitchen, the cat hops down onto the floor, much to Tim’s surprise. It trails him closely, always staying right by Tim’s feet, and only Tim’s instincts from when Dracarys used to walk around his legs keep Tim from tripping.

Juš smiles at him when he notices Tim’s new friend. Tim rolls his eyes and smiles back.

When the shop closes and it’s time for dinner, Tim prepares to bid the cat goodbye, at least until he sets out more cat food. Surprisingly, however, it doesn’t run off. Yes, it hesitates when Tim crosses the threshold into the house, but the shop itself is quiet, now, with only Tim and Juš and Oskar, and the cat follows Tim as soon as he makes another kiss-click sound. 

“Need me to cook the salmon for dinner?” Oskar says to Juš as Tim leaves his grassy, dirty shoes at the door.

“That would be great, love,” Juš says with a kiss to Oskar’s cheek. He waves his hands in the air and mutters quietly under his breath,  _ “restoravi,” _ a quick spell to set the shop to rights after a long day. “I already have the rice cooking.”

“I picked some asparagus, so cook that, too,” Tim adds. “It’s on the table.”

“Will do. Where’d you get the cat from?” Curious, Oskar tilts his head just like a dog might, his half-floppy ears perked up and his tail wagging. During the day, he keeps his animal features under control and melded into his human form, but now it’s their off-time, so Oskar’s tail wags freely as he smiles at the cat.

It dodges to hide behind Tim, at first, but when Oskar crouches down and makes himself less intimidating, it steps forward to sniff him before retreating.

“Is it a he or a she?”

“Wha-”

Entirely without regard to his own safety, as per usual, Oskar lifts up the cat to check, and it seems to hiss - making Tim panic - but it immediately cuts off its hiss with sneezes.

“Oskar, be careful with it, it’s still a stray - it might scratch you!” Tim worries, trying to carefully take the cat back from Oskar before one or both of them get hurt.

“Nah, it’s fine, we’re cool,” Oskar says, rolling his eyes. Still, he holds the cat at arm’s length with a befuddled expression as it just keeps on sneezing, though with less vigour.

The three of them watch the cat with confusion. “Why does it keep sneezing?” Tim wonders.

“I think it’s a he?” Oskar interrupts.

“I don’t know, maybe he’s allergic? Oskar has his ears and tail out,” Juš points out.

The cat sneezes once more and looks terribly bewildered, and Tim barely suppresses a giggle while it glares at him.

“Try keeping your ears and tail in,” Juš suggests.

True to form, the sneezing stops shortly after Oskar puts the cat down and shifts into a purely human shape, his ears and tail flickering away in a burst of ixtal magic.

With a disgruntled sort of furrow in its brow, the cat returns to Tim’s side, still shaking its head and snorting at something in the air. “Poor kitty,” Tim cooes, crouching down and petting it some more. Juš and Oskar chuckle at him, and Tim just rolls his eyes as a response.

“I had better start cooking,” Oskar murmurs.

“I’ll help!” Juš chirps with a kiss to Oskar’s cheek.

And just like that, Tim is alone with the cat again. They play a game with a rag again, Tim dragging it back and forth across the ground and giggling as the cat pounces on the rag, snaring it perfectly in its paws each time. Tim could be doing something else right now - like making potions, or braiding straw to sell at the market, or reading up on his brother’s duelling circuit results.

Right now, though, there’s nowhere else Tim would rather be.

Tim and the cat get so distracted playing that dinner is done before Tim knows it. It’s rare that he’s so careless, but he really would like to spend even more time with the cat - he hasn’t felt so drawn to something since he first met Dracarys, as a little kid who loved cats and would have played with her all day had she not been the more mature one and made him keep up with his schoolwork. It’s a good salve for the pain of losing his familiar. Tim lets Juš and Oskar eat alone together in favour of taking his bowl of rice, salmon, and asparagus outside onto the garden’s doorstep, to eat with the cat as it munches on its own food.

Even now, he loses track of time. “Have you given it a name, yet?” Juš asks, standing in the doorway as the sun slowly sets. He and Oskar must have finished eating, already, but Tim’s bowl is still half-full. The cat, startled, dives to hide under Tim’s bent knees, and Juš smiles down as it peers up at him. 

“No,” Tim says quietly, gently soothing the cat with one hand as he shovels more now-cold rice into his mouth with the other, “not sure if I should.” Comforted, the cat slinks over to its food bowl, though it eats while keeping an eye on Juš. “If it’s a stray, it could be gone tomorrow,” Tim adds with a frown.

Almost as though it understands Tim’s worry, the cat pauses its eating to rub its face against Tim’s hand, then continues to devour the food Tim has given it.

“Maybe,” Juš admits. “But it seems to me like your little shadow there is going to be sticking around for a while.” He chuckles, then, and ruffles Tim’s hair lightly, watching Tim and the cat with smiling eyes. After one more fond giggle, he leaves them alone in the peace of the garden in favour of returning to Oskar.

Tim smiles. Carefully, he reaches out to pet the cat’s back as they both finish eating, and it licks its lips, then hops up into Tim’s lap with ears twitching contentedly in the twilight.

“Little shadow, huh?” Tim murmurs. He sets aside his own bowl so his hands are free to smooth out the cat’s fur and massage its sides and back, calming both cat and human.

The cat answers with a combination of a meow and a purr, looking up at Tim with those wide brown eyes that look so sweet and gentle and smart, and Tim grins.

“Well, then, I guess we’ll call you Shadow.”

\---

More fantastic art, this time of Tim and Shadow, from @hannivanillie on Twitter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just for clarification - it's not shadow like the MAD Lions jungler, but a different little shadow... ;)  
> i'll be sticking to friday uploads as much as i can, so far this schedule is looking pretty good!
> 
> let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you have guesses for the cat! (its a pretty big hint, but all will be revealed in chapter 3!)


	3. Macchiato, Iced Coffee, Milk Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being ixtal brings its own set of challenges to life, but maybe they can smooth the way to Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit more abstract than other chapters so far! enjoy~

Being an ixtal certainly has its disadvantages.

For one, he’s been kicked out of his own home, then his adoptive cat home, then another home as a human, then another cat home. The chaos in his life means he’s never been fully trained in anything other than basic ixtal magic, just shifting from form to form. His cat characteristics blend with his human ones, sometimes, so he’s always on edge, afraid of bigger predators or other threats to his survival. Survival itself is also a massive worry for him. He’s forced to live day to day. He has no stability in his home under a river bridge on the outskirts of the city. His jumpy, feral instincts intensify his anxiety as a human, and worsen his depression, neither of which are helped by his vagrant way of living. The fact that he’s alone most of the time, without even his past two cat friends for company, just makes everything even worse. You would think he would have fewer worries, but somehow his “gift” acts more like a curse. Being ixtal is rough, sometimes. Maybe more than sometimes.

Still, for all that being ixtal has forced him to deal with, he does find some advantages in it. Yes, his shapeshifting has put him in rough circumstances, but being ixtal makes them livable. Survivable, at least. For one, he doesn’t have to rely on anyone else to survive; his standard of living is terribly low but he rarely falls asleep hungry, and if he does, it’s only because he can’t hunt due to anxiety or injury or simply laziness. And being ixtal lets him save so much money from the odd jobs he does for various kind folk around the suburbs, especially since he doesn’t have to spend any of it on rent, heating or electricity. If he’s overly muddy, he can wash off in a little nook behind a waterfall near to his bridge - the gap in the rocks is small, but as a cat, he can squeeze through to the pool on the other side, somehow large enough to bathe himself as a human, with somehow just enough light to see by. If he’s tired, he doesn’t need to care where he sleeps - just curl up in a sunny spot where he won’t be trampled by oblivious passersby. If he’s cold in winter, hide by a warm chimney in the city. If he’s hot in summer, swim in the river. If he’s hungry, go hunting for rats or birds. If he’s thirsty, find a clean puddle or drink from the river. As long as he’s a cat, his stomach and himself are impervious to most sicknesses.

Switching back into a human lets him work for money, too, and keep all the benefits for himself. Plus, as an ixtal, when he changes forms, his clothes shift along with him. It’s handy for keeping his antidepressants and antianxiety medication safe in the pocket of his hoodie along with the cash he has, since he can just store them away and then shift into a cat. He’s been out of school long enough that he’s forgotten where the items go, in terms of magic, but if he needs them, he just has to shift back, and otherwise they’re secure. Other important things - toothpaste, toothbrush, extra clothing besides what he has on his back, soap - he keeps in another tiny gap in the concrete under the bridge, one that, just like the pool behind the waterfall, opens up into enough space to store a few items. It’s convenient.

Being an ixtal isn’t always good, but it can be convenient.

And for Nick, usually that’s all he needs.

It’s not like he needs more than what he has. He has enough to survive, anyway.

But sometimes he meets people who make him want to truly live.

Tim is one of those people.

Nick first notices Tim while prowling the streets for mice or pigeons to eat. The scents in the air around this particular area always make him smile a bit on the inside - there’s lemon blossoms and irises and rosemary and roses on the air around this house’s garden, which is so full that a few stray branches peek out from the fence at the back. Usually, this place has the full bounty of spring and summer and fall within it, smelling of sweetness and life. That day, though, there had been a much sourer smell.

The matriarch of the street, the most powerful cat-familiar on the block, had died in her witch’s arms.

Nick could hear Tim sniffling even through the fence and the hedges. The first mark Nick learned to recognise Tim by was the scent of his tears.

Ever since then, he had made sure to stop by more often, to check on the sad witch who had lost his familiar, and Nick began to understand a little more. Between the rich earth he smells on Tim’s hands and the light, sweet drinks that perfume Tim’s breath and the coffee scent that soaks into his clothes and the quiet hums of song and chatter, Nick builds a picture of what Tim is like. He catches glimpses, occasionally, always from his cat-form. The images are fuzzy due to his cat eyesight, fuzzy and in meek, mild tones nothing like the spectrum of colour Nick can see in his human form, but they’re images nonetheless, images of fluffy hair under a black-dyed or straw pointed hat and eyes that look like grey clouds and strong yet gentle hands and mild yet well-trained magic that makes Nick’s fur tingle pleasantly by its mere presence, like the magic is calling to him.

At some point along the line, Tim’s garden became a place of safety, even more so than Nick’s own bridge den.

Though Nick would rather excuse it as Tim’s garden being closer, this is why Nick runs there after a few cruel schoolchildren sneak up on him while he’s sleeping and douse him in mud, so much that he can’t get clean without water, so much that he can’t hunt because the stench of the mud gives him away every time. At least a kindly goat vastaya had shooed the ruffians away with an intimidating glare, but Nick ran as soon as it was safe to do so. Needless to say, the rest of his day didn’t go well, and by the end of it, he was tired, terribly hungry, stressed, upset, and so horribly dirty that he rubbed his sides against any brick wall along his way to try and scrape the dried mud and dust out of his fur. Not that it was successful.

But Tim took care of him.

Nick spends most of his time alongside Tim, now, He watches as Tim cares for his plants and goes to the market and sorts the harvest from his own garden and cooks simple meals to feed himself and his two housemates. The other people in the house and the crowds that fill the shop still scare him, but Tim is safe, and Nick trails him closely, doing his best to help Tim as Tim helps him so much. Bit by bit, he even allows Tim to move the cat-bed from the outside den to just inside the door, where Nick can sleep comfortably, warm and safe from anything that lurks in the night. The cat-flap in the door isn’t used to him, yet, but Nick is getting better and better at using it even without the magic it’s designed to work with. He comes and goes mostly as he pleases.

It’s nice to have safety to return to.

He still has to return to his bridge each day, to take his medications and wash up, especially after the sweaty July days, and to make sure he looks respectable enough for the odd jobs he does in the early mornings when he can’t sleep anyway, but Tim is always ready with a spare hand to scratch behind his ears or ruffle his fur. More than that, Tim seems to genuinely care for the small yellow tabby that lingers in his shadow.

Tim is more than just some little kid who wants a cat because they want a cat, like the last family Nick had freeloaded off of. Tim wants a cat because he wants a familiar, a partner, a companion and a friend. Is it wrong for Nick to stay, when he knows he can’t fulfill those desires? Maybe. 

But, though Nick knows he shouldn’t, he finds himself enjoying Tim’s company tremendously. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe, if Nick can maintain his disguises well, he can be a friend to Tim as Nick the human rather than simply Shadow. And maybe, if he does that well enough, he could eventually be his full ixtal self around Tim, and perhaps even- Well, that possibility is far-fetched. 

Friends is close enough. Friends is more than close enough.

Still, to be friends, Nick will have to reintroduce himself to Tim as a human.

He makes his plans to slowly adjust his schedule, with time. After all, he would hate to make Tim worry by suddenly disappearing for the day instead of trailing Tim around the garden and kitchen. Besides that, though, living off the cat food Tim feeds him is a good setup for Nick. It might not be the dinner or breakfast of choice for a typical human, but it tastes immensely better than old, wet rat, and it’s fully nourishing - so much so that the food, combined with spending less effort to get it, actually helps Nick put a bit of weight on his scrawny bones after only a few days. Besides the food, Tim gives him warmth and attention, little scratches behind his ears and long, smooth strokes down his sides that make Nick chortle and shiver with delight. It’s a good life. In the comfort of a cushy cat bed or Tim’s bony but warm and loving arms, he catches up on the sleep he’d lost to hunting and working. It’s so nice. Nick hasn’t felt so cared-for and pampered in seemingly forever, though it’s probably only been half a year or so. The gestures aren’t even that much, really, but still - it’s so nice.

Soon enough, though, Nick starts to venture out during the day, slipping through the same thin gap in the fence he’d used to get in the first time. 

At first, he simply explores, not going far, but just through the area to familiarise himself with the safe little gaps in the alleys of the city and under the hedges. There’s so many in the city - around every corner, in the gap between a loose brick and the wall, sometimes, or in a shallow divot beneath a hedge. Nick doesn’t bother to wonder how a little hollow opens up into a wide, cavernous space that seemingly is endless. It doesn’t matter. All he cares about is the safety and protection of these odd little spots, and the details, while interesting to ponder, are ultimately inconsequential to him, a mere cat-ixtal without the ability to truly harness magic’s strength.

He returns home quickly from these short expeditions; after all, he wouldn’t want to miss out on more time spent with Tim. It seems like there’s always something new to do in the garden or the kitchen, or at least something new to watch Tim do. Nick can’t help Tim too overtly - it might give away his cover and make Tim wonder about who his Shadow really is. But he can follow Tim around as he picks baskets upon baskets of flowers and leaves and fruits from his garden, and he can sniff at each plant Tim holds out to him, and he can keep a careful eye on cauldrons and pots as they boil, full of fresh wisdom potions or sweet syrups or fresh water for tea, while Tim prepares food with the awkward movements of someone not quite used to handling a kitchen knife rather than garden shears. Along the way, Tim starts to hum to him. He giggles whenever Nick twines himself between Tim’s feet, so Nick does so whenever Tim isn’t in danger of tripping over him, and it’s comfortable. Of course, he can’t tangle himself in Tim’s limbs when Tim is covering for Jus and Oskar in the shop itself, but even then he can stay close and hover around the corner of the serving counter, hiding from the shop’s customers.

On this day in particular, Jus and Oskar have withdrawn to the kitchen to make a batch of plant blood for some vampires on the street - it’s a complicated recipe, requiring the full strength of their shared magic, so Tim must run the shop for an hour or two as they perform the proper spells. Nick knows all the possible exits from the shop, so he doesn’t mind staying near Tim for the time. Still, it’s stressful enough to keep him cowering in the corner behind the shop counter.

The schoolkids notice him anyway.

One of the first of the bunch is a pixie, with wild hair and wild eyes, his equally wild magic in a rainbow swirl around his hands and feet. He manages to hold it within himself as he enters the shop, but Nick can still see the colours swirling in his eyes, one the colour of earth and the other the colour of sky. His laugh is sharp and piercing. Though Nick can’t see him perfectly, he can hear him well; the boy orders a triple shot of espresso in his macchiato.

“Matyáš, you’re not getting that,” his companion speaks up. This one is taller, an elf as far as Nick can tell by his height, stature, and long, pointed ears. He smells vaguely like the forests most elves call home, but there’s another smell on his hands, one of fire and charcoal. Something dangerous.

Nick tenses, and, almost in sync, Tim grits his jaw ever so slightly, too. He’s probably more uncomfortable with the customers’ little argument than worried about the smoke on the elf’s hands, though. In any case, it’s enough to make Nick want to trot over to Tim’s legs and rub his head around Tim’s ankles as a bit of reassurance - but he refrains, so he doesn’t disturb Tim’s work.

“Actually,” the pixie - Matyáš? - retorts, “I am getting that, because I’m paying.”

The elf rolls his eyes. “You’re going to start shaking again if you have that much caffeine. I’m not spending another two hours of my life keeping you calm.”

“Like that’s any different from the way you are now,” Matyáš snorts. But he does change his order to a simple, one-shot-espresso macchiato, and he sips the milk foam off the top while Tim makes the elf’s drink. Curiously, Matyáš seems to watch Nick as well, as he waits for his friend, rather than making small talk with Tim, and Nick immediately feels self-conscious. He gives himself a quick grooming, hoping he hasn’t made an embarrassment of himself without realising it, but nothing out of the ordinary turns up on his paws. Maybe Matyáš just likes cats, that’s all.

“Iced coffee for Marek,” Tim calls in his gentle, sweet voice, interrupting Nick’s worry, and the elf fetches his drink.

Even with his blurred vision, Nick can tell Marek looks at Tim for a few moments longer than normal, almost as if annoyed, and Nick feels his own hackles rise in instinctual defense of his witch. Well- not  _ his, _ but that’s beside the point. “Where’s Jus?” Marek asks at last.

“Busy in the kitchen,” Tim answers quietly, shying away from the two teens and busying himself with cleaning invisible messes. “Why?”

“Oh. Just wondering,” Matyáš chimes in with a shrug. “ ‘Cause you usually stay in the garden, right?”

“Yes,” Tim says. He starts wiping down dirty glasses and rinsing out the clean ones, not for any particular reason but to stay busy, as far as Nick can tell. 

“You had the cat familiar, right? Dracarys?” Matyáš asks, still slowly sipping his macchiato. 

“Yes,” Tim answers, still obviously uncomfortable and awkwardly quiet. Carefully, with stutters and starts, Nick takes a few steps behind the counter itself, inching closer to Tim bit by bit. He really, really doesn’t want to intrude, doesn’t want to annoy Tim or make his already-difficult job more difficult, but Tim seems like he could use the distraction and reassurance, so Nick gently butts his head against Tim’s leg. He doesn’t get an obvious reaction.

“She always seems so smart,” Matyáš praises, “you must feel lucky to have such a great familiar, and still take care of strays!”

“Yes, I’m very lucky,” Tim says. His face is still blank, as far as Nick can tell, but his nervous hands leave the drinking glasses alone to fuss over the free areas on the countertop with a soulless sort of repetition. It’s worrying.

“Where is she, by the way?” Matyáš ploughs on. “Seems like she hasn’t been around lately.”

Around the cleaning towel, Tim’s fist clenches until the knuckles turn white, and Nick rubs his cheek against Tim’s leg, trying to comfort him in the only way Nick can, trapped in this small, feeble, wordless form. “She passed away,” Tim says, even quieter.

“Oh.”

“Gods- Matyáš, leave him alone,” says Marek with a restraining hand on Matyáš’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Matyáš mumbles. Nick can’t see him from where he’s sitting with Tim behind the counter, but curiosity draws Nick out of hiding - he peeks around the corner of the counter to see Matyáš staring sadly into his coffee cup.

“Thank you,” Tim says with an empty smile. It looks so, so pained… The only thing that prevents Nick from hissing at Matyáš to voice his displeasure is how regretful Matyáš himself looks as he fidgets with his hands and his wildness quiets itself entirely, not even bubbling out of his hands any more. Tim, now silent, returns to wiping up invisible spots on the countertop. 

Lightly, ever so lightly, Nick trots over and raises a paw to pat Tim’s leg, just above the ankle with a concerned meow.

“Not right now, Shadow,” Tim murmurs.

Nick lowers his paw and lets him keep cleaning nothing until the next customers come in.

In the late-afternoon lull, their customers range from a bubbly pixie girl and a boy who surely must be at least half-giant with how long his limbs are, to a scrawny teenaged merman, to a human witch with a wreath of branches around the brim of her hat, accompanied by a black-and-white bicolour cat. The girl and the boy join Matyáš and Marek with laughs and grins, the merteen floats out of the door and leaves only the slightest trace of water from the magically-controlled water block he swims in, and the witch patiently browses a crystal catalogue as she waits in line. She places her order with Nick watching from between the legs of the chairs. As she waits again for Tim to pour her tea latte, she and her cat - her familiar, probably - look over the crystals together, until the witch gets her drink and the cat decides on something. “Milk tea, no ice, for Luci,” Tim calls. The cat puts its paw down on a page in the catalogue, solidifying something between it and its witch. Meanwhile, Nick tries to stay hidden while still cautiously monitoring the other cat. Does it recognise him? Can it tell he’s an ixtal? Will it tell the witch?

Much to Nick’s dismay, as the witch Luci sips her tea and makes polite small-talk with Tim about his garden, the cat approaches him.  _ You’re new here, _ the cat meows. 

Nick pretends not to hear for a moment, but soon feels guilty for ignoring her, a cat clearly his elder and also likely far superior in magical ability.  _ I am,  _ he answers in the quiet language of cats, half-visual and half-audible.

_ I’m Roxy. Luci’s familiar,  _ she says, preening at the title. She and her witch must have a good, strong bond, working hard and well together.  _ And you are? _ she asks politely.

_ Uh- Shadow, _ Nick replies.  _ I’m Shadow. I’m just a pet. _ She doesn’t need to know he’s ixtal.

Roxy just stares at him with a disapproving gaze.  _ Now, now, dear, _ she says to him with the most motherly tone Nick has heard in at least a decade, and Nick’s heartbeat picks up speed, hoping she hasn’t found him out,  _ What’s your real name? _

Nick blinks at her.

_ I’m not stupid. _

_ It’s Nick, _ Nick admits.

_ Good. _ She voices her approval with a quiet click, evidently much more pleased with Nick now.  _ I’m assuming you’re Tim’s pet? Soon-to-be familiar? _ she asks with the equivalent body language of a reassuring, friendly smile as she gossips.

Nick’s fur raises in a mixture of alarm and hope.  _ Well, maybe, _ he says,  _ but I don’t think I can. I want to, but I don’t think I can. _ For one, he’s not magic. For another, being Tim’s familiar would have complications. Nick has no idea how to go about disguising his identity even through the mental bond between a witch and their familiar, but it surely would be nearly impossible, and Nick simply can’t have Tim knowing that he’s ixtal. He’s been kicked out of four too many homes to let that happen again.

_ That’s no way to go about reaching him, _ Roxy chides,  _ No half-measures, dear. You’ll have to work at it, but he’s a good witch. Put your mind to it. You’ll like him. _

_ I already do,  _ chirps Nick with a little fond chuckle.

_ Then that’s a good place to start.  _ Roxy chirps back at him, a quick, high note indicating politeness and a welcome - it’s his welcome to the world of the familiars in the neighbourhood, Nick supposes; his own personal introduction to the birds, dogs, snakes, and cats that empower their witches’ magic and can cast their own spells as well. Of course, he hasn’t met them all just yet. Someday, if all goes well, maybe he will. 

For now, Roxy bumps his nose with hers as a final greeting to this new cat on the block. Luci asks if she’s ready to leave then, and Roxy takes her leave.

Nick watches them return to the world outside the shop with wide eyes and not a small amount of longing. Wouldn’t it be nice if he could be Tim’s familiar, and he and Tim could stroll through town together, chatting through a mental bond, maybe even as Nick instead of Shadow? But that’s a distant dream. Tim is nice, yes - the nicest, sweetest, kindest person Nick has met in a long, long time. But Nick himself is too much of a risk. Being ixtal is too much of a risk.

“Hey, can you bottle that up for me?” Jus calls, his voice crashing through Nick’s thoughts as he points back at the kitchen he’s just left with red-lined nails. Tim looks up with a soft smile, relieved to be able to retreat into his garden again, and Nick heartily agrees with the sentiment, while Marek and his little cluster of friends all say hello to Jus and Matyáš says goodbye to Tim. Seamlessly, Jus and Oskar reintegrate themselves into the shop counter’s rhythms and operations.

Tim loads up a tray of empty bottles to carry into the kitchen to hold the contents of the still-warm cauldron, and Nick follows him contentedly.

With a few more days and a little more boldness, Nick pushes himself to go back to the bridge and neaten up, then walk through the city in human form, getting used to how the shop’s section of the city looks as a human, with fewer scents to go off of and more colours. As a human, the blackhaw trees smell less sweet and fruity, and the ground ivy’s light grassiness fades into the rest of the urban smells. But the vibrance of the world more than compensates for it - the houses and shops and apartments are lined with verdant ivy and climbing flowers, the trees lining the street look so beautiful in the peak of summer, the sky is so brilliantly blue, the people walking by are made of sharp, clear objects, not fuzzy lumps. He catches his first few glimpses of Tim and Jus and Oskar, this way. Nick’s human sight isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s good enough to see Tim’s eyes and smile. Passing by one day, Nick is even lucky enough to catch Tim watering the trees in front of the shop, under the shining sign that Nick can finally see reads “King’s Crown and Cat’s Foot.” 

Their encounter is innocuous enough. Nick just murmurs a quiet “Excuse me,” as he passes by on the semi-crowded sidewalk.

“It’s fine,” Tim says just as quietly, standing up and watering the other plants with hands that sparkle and shimmer as they manipulate the water with magic. He offers Nick a tiny smile, which Nick tries to ingrain in his memory and which he returns, hopefully sweetly.

Nick has to keep moving, to keep up with the flow of traffic and to not seem out of place, but that tiny little moment fills his heart with so much happiness.

It’s not much. It’s small, and tiny, and only a few seconds’ worth of memories, but Nick savours it, cherishes it, holds it. Despite his own desire to stay hidden, the desperate wish to meet Tim as a human, to talk with him and learn about him and share life with him, grows.

It’s good motivation.

In the midst of all these little day-ventures, Nick always finds time to return to Tim for the night. Tim gives him the nicest backrubs and pets after he goes adventuring for the day, giving the work a worthy reward. Sometimes Nick returns earlier, too, just to sleep for a while before he sneaks out at night for his odd jobs. Other times he returns earlier in the afternoon just for the sake of spending time near Tim and watching as he moves about the garden, humming under his breath. It’s cute. More than that, it makes so many thoughts of Nick with Tim as more than just Shadow run through Nick’s head.

Visiting Tim and getting to know him as a human - now isn’t that a thought? How nice it would be, to converse with him and have a drink with him and smile and laugh with him! It would be so wonderful. It’s Nick’s favourite daydream, now, second only to dreaming about being Tim’s familiar - an impossibility due to his lack of magical ability. But it’s a nice dream.

It’s a very nice dream.

From where Nick rests, curled up on the seat of the wooden porch swing, he can see Tim stand up in the far reaches of the garden. With his basket of produce and herbs in his hands, Tim slowly returns to the house’s side, his hands smelling of basil and blackberries. He shifts the basket to balance on his hip as he approaches Nick. Carefully, almost respectfully, his hands reach out to scratch behind Nick’s ears, and the warmth of the sunlight with the warmth of Tim’s hands and the warm, earthy smells and the warmth of Tim’s affectionate gaze easily lull Nick into purring loudly. Tim smiles, even setting his basket down to sit with Nick, who crawls into his lap.

Still purring, Nick kneads at Tim’s thigh. He hasn’t felt so safe and happy and loved in years.

Of course, he’d like to be human around Tim, too, and that will take much more time and work.

But all of that can wait. For now, Nick affectionately bonks his head against Tim’s knee and basks in the overwhelming warmth with the loudest purrs he can muster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was slower than some others but we'll have some very exciting events very soon!  
> i hope you enjoyed this little insight into the LS side of things! what do you think of this fic and the ships so far?


	4. Iced Americano and a Blueberry Fizz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets someone rather interesting in the shop.
> 
> But where has Shadow gone?

There is a new customer in the shop.

There is a new customer in the shop, and he’s terribly cute.

There is a new customer in the shop, and he’s terribly cute, and Jus and Oskar are undoubtedly aware of how cute Tim thinks he is.

This new customer really is new; none of them, despite having run the shop together for years, recognise him as a previous customer, not even Oskar with his impeccable sense of danger and safety and his ability to recognise even those customers they’ve only had once or twice, by scent. Over dinner one night, Oskar notes that the new guy smells a bit like rivers and rock, something not found on this side of the city.

“Weird,” Jus murmurs. “Like the forest to the south?”

“No, like the city, but also the river,” clarifies Oskar.

“Hm.”

“Hm,” Tim agrees.

“Hm,” Oskar adds, teasing them. They collectively giggle, then return to eating in peaceful quiet, and Tim smiles as his two friends chatter about their day.

It’s unusual to have a customer that isn’t from the surrounding area of town, but not impossible - the elder Martin and his son Christy visit from the lake to the west, which is a fair distance, though Christy will be attending school in the area. Sometimes customers just stop in randomly, too. There’s always a few each week that Oskar can’t place.

It’s just a bit more unusual to have a new regular not from the local area.

But that’s the most atypical thing Jus and Oskar encounter, and otherwise their dinner chatter is about someone ordering an insane amount of caffeine, or hyper-sweetened drinks, or someone who bought a muffin for their familiar in a sweet act of kindness and appreciation.

On the other hand, Tim’s days are mostly the same without the extra little oddities Oskar and Jus see, the kind that come with working in any shop. Instead of having funny stories about people, Tim chats with his plants about the town’s gossip and the weather - the blackhaw tree comments about the oncoming thunderstorm, so Tim takes a few extra steps towards the end of the week to secure his tiered planters and make sure the lightning rod is properly set up, both on the house and in his garden. His brother may be a storm witch, able to ward off lightning or call it to him with just a wave of his hand, but Tim has no such magic, and he must rely on nonmagical ways to make sure his plants are safe. They thank him with extra chatter and fond giggles as he waters them all, moving from plant to plant with ease and instinctively recognising which need water and which will be fine until the storm hits. 

Though Oskar and Jus quickly recognise the new customer’s distinctiveness, Tim first notices him while arranging a few new bouquets, some to sell and others to decorate the shop’s cafe tables. The customer orders his drink and then sits down in a back corner of the shop.

Tim keeps his eyes on the bouquets in front of him - well, mostly. He catches a few glimpses of this new person, though maybe… maybe Tim has seen him somewhere else? Perhaps at the market or on the street, though it doesn’t matter where, he still doesn’t really know him. The newcomer is terribly handsome and cute in a plain hoodie, nothing like the pale, light shirts Tim wears with his gardening skirt. The hoodie is enough to make him stand out alone, since it’s so hot in July that most people abhor long sleeves, even when they’re rolled up the way the new customer does his. His eyes are a rich brown, like the hot chocolate Tim loves to drink in the winter, like coffee with plenty of cream, like soft earth on Tim’s fingertips, and his smile (on the rare occasion that Tim catches it) is brighter and more magical than the sun overhead, warm and welcoming and-

The bamboo in the corner of the shop teases him for being so smitten with this new customer after just a glance, to which Tim has no response but to flush pink and continue tying bouquets together, then set them all in their proper spots. Thankfully, the table the newcomer sits at isn’t one that needs a bouquet. Tim can avoid him for a while longer. But their eyes meet while Tim changes out the flowers at the next table over, and Tim quickly diverts his gaze back down to the flowers in his hands, praying to Varus that he isn’t blushing as hard as he feels like he is.

“Iced americano, for Nick,” Jus says then with his most pleasant, welcoming voice, and the newcomer fetches his drink and returns to his seat, sipping the espresso-water blend through the cold metal straw. His fingertips carefully brush against the soft petals of the hydrangea and roses decorating the two-person-table. Tim hopes he can feel how fresh, soft and lively the flowers are - the hydrangea and the rosebush worked hard to make those. The newcomer smiles at the blooms touching his fingers and seems to understand.

Quickly, Tim finishes his work and goes back into the garden before he starts fawning over how adorably gentle, quiet and shy this new person - Nick - is.

The plants’ giddy, chattery voices hit him full force as soon as he steps outside. The chrysanthemums and lilies prod him to no end about the newcomer and his cuteness and Tim’s admiration from afar for him, to which Tim responds with groans, embarrassed giggles and friendly banter about the lilies’ fondness for a similar type growing in a garden down the street. That’s the last Tim thinks of Nick for that day, at least.

Just a few days later, Nick is back again. Tim doesn’t hear his order, this time, too busy sprinkling eggshells throughout his garden as fertiliser and snail-deterrent, watering his plants as he goes. In turn, they murmur greetings to him, and he beams down upon them in return for their kindness. The cherry tree complains that its roots have run into rocks below, so Tim gives it a good watering to ensure it will have the strength to push its roots around any obstacles. 

His next duty is to reinforce and repair some of the tubings on his tiered planters, so the watering system remains functional even for the meadowsweet and marigolds growing on top. A bit of tape and resin will secure everything and seal up a few leaks along the way. There might be more damage from the thunderstorm later, but it’s important to fix everything up now so the destruction won’t be extensive or seriously break anything.

As he turns back to where his little dish of resin floats in the air, Tim sees Nick through the shop’s long back window. He’s sipping another iced drink through a straw, his attention on his phone. After a few seconds, he puts it back into his hoodie pocket, then looks out the window into the garden, seemingly at Tim.

Tim panics and turns his gaze back to the resin and the little wood scrap he’s using to apply it. 

As calmly as he can, Tim continues to repair the tubes. They might need replacing this winter - some don’t look too good, and are more cracked than whole - and Tim’s work is absorbing, as per usual, with the quiet conversations he hears amongst the clover and his hands’ own busy nature. He almost forgets that Nick is even in the shop. Almost.

When he finally finishes fixing the tiers, though, he remembers and looks back to the window. It’s late in the afternoon, by the way the sun casts shadows in Tim’s garden, and Nick is gone.

But the day after next, Nick is back again. Another iced drink. Another spot at that same two-person-table in the back corner of the shop. Another few glances at his phone and then putting it away in the pocket of his hoodie. Two days later, he returns and does much the same, like most of their other customers - drink, get a bite to eat, work on a computer or chat with friends or read a book. Nick, though, never gets anything to eat and doesn’t bring work or friends with him to the shop. He seems to usually stay for an hour or so, absentmindedly sipping his drink and looking around the shop, so maybe Tim could find a way to say hello today? But that’s awkward, and requires confidence, and Tim would really rather just stay in his garden instead of make an embarrassment of himself, so he instead snips a few bunches of marigold flowers and snapdragons and ties them together with a few tall reeds, then makes a little loop to hang them on the shop’s wall of drying herbs and blooms. Tim doesn’t mind staying hidden among the foliage. He’d rather hang out with the plants than with most humans, anyway, even if Nick does have something about him that makes Tim want to get closer.

One day, though, after Jus ever so gently teases him at dinner the night before about their new customer and Tim’s admiration of him from afar, Tim forgets to water the young little succulents in their tiny pots along the shop’s back window. Coincidentally, the baby cacti and aloe veras just so happen to live next to the table that Tim now thinks of as Nick’s special spot.

The succulents are still very fragile and sensitive to changes in environment and missing waterings, so Tim needs to water them before it gets too late in the afternoon and they get whiny and upset, or, even worse, sickly. And even though the aloe veras are small, one is pushing up a friend, a little copy of itself, and the two of them need even more delicate care, now. The jade plant might start dropping leaves if Tim doesn’t water it soon.

And guess who’s right on time, at his two-person-table with a drink on the way, sitting where Tim can’t possibly avoid him if he has to tend to the cacti and aloe veras?

Nick.

Tim braces himself, metal watering can in hand with a little plant food added in, and begins to work. “Excuse me- sorry,” Tim murmurs, watering along the row of windowsill succulents with careful hands and only a small bit of magic to smooth the process out.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Nick answers as Tim squeezes by, scooting his chair away to make a bit more space for Tim to operate. Self-conscious, Tim can almost feel Nick’s gentle gaze on his hands and his face as he goes to water the bamboo in a pot behind Nick. It hums happily to him, grateful for the nourishment. Only the sound of Nick’s voice, quiet, relatively high, and oddly tinted, as though it hasn’t been used in a while, breaks Tim’s pointed focus on the plants. “Sorry for intruding- is there a cat here?” he asks. When Tim turns to face him, Nick points to the framed picture of Dracarys that hangs on the wall, glinting in the sunlight.

“Oh,” Tim says quietly, “Not- not anymore. She was my familiar. Passed away a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss,” the newcomer responds. He awkwardly sips his iced americano.

Tim smiles sadly, still staring into the nothingness behind the little succulents in the windowsill planter. “Thanks,” he murmurs. Then, he resets himself, standing up a bit taller with a determined little huff of breath. Now is no time to continue being gloomy, after all. “She was a good familiar and she had a good life.”

“Good,” Nick says, smiling more strongly, now.

“Do you like cats, too?” Tim asks conversationally. Perhaps there’s a shared interest, something for Tim to go off of beyond Jus’s silly meddling and matchmaking.

He shrugs, and for a moment, Tim’s heart worriedly shudders. “I like cats a lot,” he says, and Tim very nearly breathes a sigh of relief, “but I never had one. Never really had the time or resources to give it the love it would deserve.”

That’s so unfair - he’s so considerate, Tim’s heart twists a little with fondness. “Ah,” Tim murmurs. “Well, there’s a stray that hangs around here sometimes. I take care of him - maybe you’ll see him sometime if you keep stopping by.”

“Maybe,” Nick answers, looking a bit pale, maybe? But that’s probably just Tim’s eyes fooling him. The sunlight shines bright on them right now, so that’s probably it.

“Maybe,” Tim agrees. “I’m Tim, by the way,” he says with a little wave. “I’m the garden witch here.”

“Nick,” the newcomer says with a bright smile, extending his hand for a handshake that Tim happily accepts once he’s made sure his hands are free of dirt. “Sorry for interrupting your work.”

“Oh,” Tim giggles, “that’s fine. I’m not terribly busy in the early afternoon, anyway.”

“Really? You always seem to be working on something out there,” Nick says, waving his hand towards the garden and turning his body in his chair to fully face Tim, who can’t help but giggle again.

“There’s always something,” Tim responds conversationally, already enjoying talking to Nick. It’s weird - small talk drains him, usually, but this feels okay. He could keep talking for a while like this, it seems. “I’m more busy in the morning-”

“Sorry to interrupt!” Jus chirps, grinning at Tim with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Tim jolts and glares at him. “Don’t forget to take a break, Tim!” He took his lunch break just an hour and a half ago. But, “here’s a blueberry fizz,” Jus says, handing Tim a glass filled with ice and sparkling water and ribbons of blueberry syrup drifting down over the icecubes. “Now sit down and relax for a bit, you’ve been on your feet all day!”

And with that, Jus returns to Oskar’s side, both of them giggling as they make a few drinks and sell some snacks to the little flock of high school kids, fresh out of class.

“Jus-” Tim starts, but Jus is already gone, so, with a vaguely flushed expression and a slight pout worrying away at his lower lip, Tim sits down across from Nick at the small, two-person table.

Nick smiles reassuringly and lets out a tiny laugh. “You seem to be good friends…?” he asks.

“Yeah, since secondary school, actually,” Tim says. “He owns the shop, and Oskar and I help him out.” It’s been a wild ride, at times, but there’s no place Tim would rather be - he doesn’t have to work with obscene numbers of people, here, and he can meet everyone in his own time, and he’s allowed free reign of the garden so long as he leaves a little space for the porch swing, and it’s simple, hard, but rewarding work.

“You help by growing things, right? If you don’t mind me asking,” Nick says with a gentle but encouraging head-tilt, “what’s it like being a garden witch?”

Tim nearly lights up with excitement. He could talk for hours and hours about his plants and the varieties he grows, all their fruits and flowers and uses in protective wards and potions and for making foods magical. Mentally, he tries to limit himself to a few handfuls of minutes, but Nick seems genuinely thrilled to hear about it. Still, Tim stays within the boundaries of the summer season when explaining how the plant life calls to him and strengthens him, and how he can amplify their magic in foods and spells with a little bit of his own magic.

“Oh, I’ve been talking on and on,” Tim realises with a mortified blush after a fair amount of time has passed, with Nick only offering little encouragements to Tim to keep going and a few questions here and there. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Nick says with a grin, “I like hearing about magic. It’s cool.”

“It is,” Tim agrees. “What kind can you do?”

“Oh. I-it’s nothing, really,” Nick stutters, and Tim finds his interest piqued. Is it something exotic? Something wild? Something powerful, like Jus’s magic, or uncontrollable, like his brother’s, or dependable, like Oskar’s, or weak but hardworking, like Tim’s? Is it kitchen magic or hearth magic or garden magic? Or maybe forest and medicinal magic, or an element of nature? Maybe even hedge magic, with its ability to leap into the Spirit Realm and meet gods face to face?

“You don’t have to be modest,” Tim says, a cheerful smile on his face.

“No, it’s- I can’t do magic.”

Well, now Tim is confused. “Did no one ever teach you how?” he wonders aloud, before immediately stopping himself. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. W-we can talk about something else. Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” says Nick with a half-smile, half-grimace. “I brought it up anyway. So…” he trails off, looking around the shop as if looking for a topic of conversation before his eyes settle on Tim’s drink. “What’s a blueberry fizz?” Nick asks with another adorable head-tilt, his brown eyes looking into Tim’s grey with pure curiosity and none of the old pain Tim had just heard in his voice.

“Carbonated water and blueberry syrup,” Tim answers, taking a drink of it through his straw. “Grew the blueberries myself and made the syrup just about a week ago.”

“That’s so cool that you know how to do that!” Nick chirps excitedly, and Tim nearly blushes again - the praise is so nice, and it’s refreshing to chat with someone like this. “I can barely grow anything, but you’ve got it all down.”

“I’m a garden witch!” Tim giggles in response to the praise. “This is just what we do.” Tim almost catches himself smiling for way too long - he stifles it in a sip of his drink, though Nick’s smile to him doesn’t fade in the least, and a sweet, bubbly feeling, not unlike the taste of his drink, rises in his chest. “How about you,” Tim asks to distract himself, “what are you drinking?”

“Iced americano,” Nick says plainly, still looking adorably happy.

“No sugar syrup or flavouring or anything?” Tim asks, shocked at the thought that someone might have an espresso drink without anything to mask the taste.

“No,” Nick giggles, “I like the bitterness. I’m assuming you prefer sweet things?”

“Not too sweet,” Tim says with a lopsided grin, “but yeah. I actually hate the taste of coffee, if I’m being honest. It’s  _ way  _ too bitter for me.”

“You hate coffee and you work in a coffeeshop?” Nick teases.

“Jus drinks more than enough for me and him combined,” Tim answers with a light giggle. “He’s addicted to the stuff.”

“Ah, I guess that works out, then.”

In the gentle lull of their conversation, Nick glances up at the clock hanging on the wall, and Tim starts to worry despite himself. 

“Oh, sorry,” says Tim, “do you need to leave?”

“No, I have a few more minutes,” Nick answers with a smile. “Enough time to get your number, maybe?”

His number? Gods, Tim hopes he isn’t blushing; he hasn’t traded numbers with anyone for over a year, much less someone so charming and kind. “Oh! Yes, of course,” he says, doing his best to stay cool.

“Great!” Nick can’t hold back a giddy little laugh, and it’s painfully sweet and makes all sorts of feelings well up in Tim’s chest as he pulls his phone from a pocket in his gardening skirt and they exchange numbers. “Um, so- I’ve gotta head out now,” Nick says once contact details have been swapped. He looks almost sad to have to leave, and Tim agrees with the sentiment.

But, “Okay,” Tim says with a pleasant smile. “Thanks for stopping by, it was- it was really nice to meet you.” He does his best to prevent further giggles and to sober up his giddiness, but it feels impossible.

“It was nice to meet you too,” Nick says, smiling back. “I- I’ll stop by again soon, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah! I mean, whenever you’re free,” Tim answers, shrugging in an attempt to seem casual. “I’m usually here.”

“All right, cool.” Awkwardly, Nick stands, glass in hand and ready to be put in the shop’s tray for used dishes. “So, uh. See you soon?” he asks, hopefully eagerly.

“See you soon.”

Tim waves a tiny, shy goodbye, which Nick reciprocates with a winning smile and then puts away his glass and walks away. The blackhaw and ground ivy fawn over something Nick does - perhaps it was a laugh, or a smile, or another giddy little action of unrestrained joy, something they’ll tell Tim about when he waters the ivy tomorrow.

As soon as Nick is out of the door, Marek puts two fingers between his lips and lets out a loud wolf-whistle, and the gaggle of teens in the shop all giggle and coo at Tim, who blushes red and rolls his eyes. He’s known Marek for a while now as a preteen, then teenaged customer of the shop - no one ever escapes Marek’s friendly teasing, not even Tim - and, while Marek has his considerate moments like when he had held Matyas back from causing further pain to Tim, he’s currently in a mood as bright as the traditional gold elven ornaments nestled in the edges of his pointed ears. Marek cheers with ribaldry and Tim suppresses the urge to bury his face in his hands.

“Looks like someone’s getting a date!” Matyas chips in, all smirks and flashy pink magic bubbling in the air around him.

At that, Jus and Oskar chuckle, too, and Tim can see even Laure and Eefje giggling like schoolgirls as he passes them to grab the tray of dirtied glasses and mugs, the perfect excuse to leave the shop and go to the kitchen instead. “Looks like two of you sorted yourselves out, too,” Tim retorts with a meaningful, pointed look at Matyas, who holds the hand of Zara, another sunshiny pixie with wild magic that currently flits in rainbow sparkles around her neck and shoulders. The two teen pixies blush red and their magic fizzles crimson with embarrassment and the giddiness of young love. Tim just shakes his head and chuckles, carrying the tray by hand while Marek, Norman, Andrei and Zhiqiang relentlessly tease the new couple in their midst. They seem like they can handle it perfectly well, though. Matyas even slips his arm around Zara’s shoulders, and Tim rolls his eyes at how textbook cute they are.

With the tray in hand, Tim returns to the kitchen, quickly turning on the fan to clear some of the stale, warm air and replace it with a cool breeze. Much to his surprise, the sound doesn’t cause Shadow to reappear. Shadow always seemed to love the feeling of the air ruffling his fur, and the fan squeaks a bit, so it’s extra attention-grabbing to cats’ ears.

But there is no Shadow to be seen.

Tim does his best to just shrug it off. Shadow is probably off hunting mice or sparrows, even though Tim feeds him more than enough to stave off hunger. Cats must do cat things, after all.

When the glasses and mugs are all rinsed and cleaned, Tim sends them back to Jus in the shop with a spell. He can tell when Jus notices the shipment of drinking vessels by how his own magic loses hold on the tray - Jus is not only strong enough to not need the words for spells he knows, but he’s also stronger than Tim, and all his spells have much more effect - so Tim lets the control of the tray leave him in favour of donning his favourite straw hat and returning to the garden.

“Oh, Tim,” Laure says as he passes her, “let me know if you need help with making flower crowns or accessories, okay? I’ve got bunches of roses, and Eefje can only wear so many,” she jokes, nudging the slim sylph at her side. Eefje giggles, and only then does Tim truly notice the plentiful roses adorning her hair and light, airy dress, matching her garden-faerie companion’s abundant flower decor.

Slightly puzzled, Tim looks around the shop quickly. Everything seems to be in good health, and it’s not like the decorations are wilting. He just replaced them with roses and sunflowers from his own garden, anyway, in preparation for Lunasa. “Thanks, I will,” he murmurs regardless. Laure is a sweetheart, and it simply wouldn’t be polite to refuse her help.

“Oh, not for the shop!” she chortles with the bell-like laughter common to most faeries. “For your little date!”

Tim’s face burns red. “Th-thank you,” he manages to answer, “but I don’t want to overdress…” Wearing something just for the occasion would be too forward, too flirty. Nick might not even be into guys: those who pay respects to Varus are balanced out by those who pay respects to Xayah and Rakan as well, and even though there’s a high amount of overlap, there are always a few exceptions.

“Naturally,” Laure agrees, nodding her head in sync with the air-faerie at her side. “I can work with casual. How about a simple rose pendant?”

“That sounds wonderful, Laure,” Tim says with a smile, still with the blush fading on his cheeks.

“I’ll have it in just a few days!” She grins at him with a vivid smile, the kind faeries are known for bestowing upon those who gain their favour, and Tim can’t help but grin back.

“Thank you so much,” he answers.

Both Laure and Eefje simply continue to smile at him, then giggle as they turn to each other and half-walk, half-fly on pale, shimmery wings out of the shop. Tim makes a note to himself to offer a few extra cakes to the faeries for Lunasa as a more formal message of appreciation.

Jus would probably love to talk with Tim about Nick right now, and Oskar would appreciate the short break it would allow Jus to accept, but that’s enough interaction for right now, at least for Tim. He’s a shy person, not used to chatting with people for so long, and even though talking with Nick felt like something he could do endlessly, without tiring or at least still comfortably despite being tired, all the surrounding chatter has exhausted him. It’s time to go back to the garden.

Still, Shadow isn’t around just yet… Tim wonders where he might be, but, in the words of his mother when Dracarys used to run off, cats must do cat things, so he doesn’t bother to worry just yet. There’s not much else he needs to do right now. With a relieved sigh, Tim breathes in the fresh air of his garden and traipses through it to the little hollow at the back, carefully avoiding crushing any plants under his feet. The earth and grass in the miniature glade are warm, soft and welcoming, a bed form-fitted to his body. Though- now that he thinks about it, the grass is a tiny bit wider than normal, almost as though the flowers and bushes and grasses growing around the hollow are retreating to make room for Tim, room that he doesn’t need.

That’s a lot to think about right now, though. He could just ask them, but…

It’s been a long day, with a lot of talking already, and it’s late in the afternoon - the perfect time to be drowsy - and Tim is about ready for a nap.

His eyelids droop as he relaxes into the gentle touch of the plants around him, which brush their leaves and petals, swaying in the light breeze, against his arms and legs. He can’t speak with the wind, but it rushes by him just the same, warm and sweet with the scent of apple blossoms and blackberries and bryony and cherries and mint, luring him deeper into sleep’s embrace. As a green-scaled dragon soars overhead and scares a flock of birds into fleeing through the blue skies, Tim dozes off.

“Meow?”

A raspy sensation on his cheek wakes Tim up.

“Mrrow?”

Another rasping gets him to sit up, scrub the dust from his eyes, and look around.

“Mrrew?”

And thus the offender makes himself known. “There you are, Shadow,” Tim says, smiling already even though Shadow just woke him up from a lovely nap, “where have you been all day?”

Shadow simply stares up at him with those wide brown eyes, and they gaze at each other for a few moments, both sitting primly on the grass under the towering grasses and iris leaves and trees. “Mew!” Shadow chirps at last. He bats at the air adorably, and Tim can’t help but giggle.

“Is it late? Are you hungry?” A quick glance at the dimmed but still shining sky tells Tim what he needs to know about the time, and another plaintive meow from Shadow tells him the rest. He chuckles fondly and gives Shadow a few good ear-scritches and head-rubs before gathering the cat into his arms. “All right, all right,” he murmurs with Shadow’s fluff against his cheek, “let’s get you some dinner.”

With Shadow in his arms, Tim makes his way to the shop, now closed to the public, and into the kitchen, where Jus is putting the final seasonings in their meal. Just before Tim sits down to eat, he sets out food for Shadow in a cute little cat-food-bowl decorated with tiny white fish on the outside and just the right size to hold the contents of a tin of wet food, plus a little bit of supplemental chicken Tim had cooked earlier in the week. It’s good food for Shadow - only the best for Tim’s cats. There’s good food for Tim, too. Jus and Oskar never fail to provide, and even when they are busy, Tim steps in to cook for their little family of sorts. Right now, the table needs to be set for three. It would seem that Oskar is busy cleaning up the shop, so Tim lays out plates, forks, and glasses, then hurries to help Oskar finish up.

“So,” Jus says almost teasingly, once dinner has been served and the first few bites have been eaten.

“So,” Tim answers with a meticulously levelled voice.

“Tell us about Nick,” Oskar says, picking up right where Jus left off. They’re connected in a deep, intimate way, not only by their love but also by the bond of a familiar to his witch, and they’re always on the same page. How could they not be, when they can share thoughts at will? It makes Tim miss Dracarys, a little bit.

But, “Nope!” Tim chirps. He looks over at Shadow, instead, to make sure the still-thin cat is eating up.

“Oh, come on,” Jus nearly whines, “you gotta tell us! We played wingmen!” And they did, so maybe they can have a little gossip, as a treat.

“That’s your own stupid decision,” Tim retorts. But he adds, “he’s nice. Polite, good listener, likes cats. Apparently, he can’t do magic - like, any sort of magic.”

“Weird,” Oskar murmurs.

“Weird,” Jus agrees. “But he still sounds like he’d be a great fit for a certain someone I know,” he teases with a raised eyebrow at Tim.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says.

“You got his number, right?”

“Yes,” Tim says with an exaggerated sigh, “I got his number.”

“Did he text you yet?” Jus asks eagerly. Of course he’s thrilled to hear details - Tim isn’t typically a very social person, so this level of familiarity right off the bat is almost unheard of. Even Jus had to spend a few weeks getting through Tim’s shell at first.

“Yes,” Tim answers again.

“What did he say?” Jus’s eyes are so wide, Tim could mistake them for some sort of weird flower with yellow-hazel irises, white petals and black fringes if he didn’t look closer. Perhaps that’s just Tim’s flora-filled brain, though.

“He sent a smiley face,” Tim says, recalling the text with a dopey grin he tries to hide in another bite of zucchini.

“And? What did you send back?”

“A smiley face,” Tim giggles through a mouthful of food, embarrassed by Jus’s teasing and prodding.

Jus nearly squeals with excitement. “Awwww, you’re so cute already!” he cooes.

Tim rolls his eyes. Sometimes Jus is worse than a fawning parent - mostly because Jus is nowhere near being a parent in actuality, but has long since become one in terms of personality.

Something lightly taps Tim’s leg - it’s Shadow, asking to be let up onto Tim’s lap, and Tim scoots his chair back to make more room for the cat to perch on him. As the humans talk, Shadow looks up at them all in turn.

“Don’t make it awkward for me,” Tim pleads. He’s already awkward enough on his own, no need to worsen that with intrusions from Jus and Oskar.

“We won’t, we promise,” Jus says, somewhat unconvincingly.

Tim lets out a quick, half-amused, half-disdainful huff of air, then carefully balances Shadow on his shoulder and carries his empty plate to the sink, washing some extra dishes, too, before taking his rightful place as the dish-drier with a towel in hand and Oskar washing dishes at his side.

From there on, it’s a typical night. Tim grabs his supply of fresh braiding straw and a basket of already-braided straw and sets both down next to the chair in the little foyer to the private areas of the house that contains their shop and their home. As soon as he sits, Shadow hops into his lap. Comfortable with the cat kneading at his lap, Tim settles into braiding more straw with a content smile.

A few minutes later, Oskar comes bounding up the stairs in his dog form, nearly crashing into the wall at the end of the stairs as per usual before turning to leap onto the sofa. Shadow startles at the sudden appearance of a dog, which Tim doesn’t blame him for - Oskar’s dog form shows off his strength and can look fearsome with his hunting-dog characteristics, but his floppy ears hint at the true, amiable personality behind the sharp teeth and claws. The way Oskar drops himself down onto the couch like a pile of rags also vouches for his harmlessness. As long as no one hurts him or his little pack with Jus and Tim and now Shadow, Oskar wouldn’t hurt anyone.

By the time Jus comes up the stairs, following Oskar, Shadow’s allergies have set in, and the poor cat sneezes once, twice, before sinking his head into Tim’s thigh. He looks absolutely miserable. With a sad smile and a soft little coo, the kind a parent might make when their child is injured, Tim rubs Shadow’s back and scratches his scruff. “I should take him to Bae-in soon,” Tim comments idly while Jus gets himself situated with his grimoire and a pen to update it with, balancing the notebook lightly on Oskar’s back as the dog-ixtal flops over his lap. “Maybe there’s some sort of allergy medicine that will work for him.”

“I can try cleaning the carpet and sofa this weekend, too,” Jus suggests. “That should get some of the stuff out, at least.”

“Maybe. But I’ll help,” Tim says firmly. Jus already has enough work as it is, and Tim is the one who brought Shadow into the house, where Oskar’s fur gets everywhere, especially in the summer months when his medium-length coat sheds like crazy. 

From where he lies half-asleep on top of Jus, Oskar lets out a woof. “Oskar says he’ll help, too,” Jus translates through his and Oskar’s mental and spiritual bond. “It shouldn’t take too long, then.”

Silently, Shadow hits his own nose with a paw and carefully rolls himself onto his back in Tim’s lap for the use of both front legs to paw at his nose. The cat sneezes again. Tim isn’t sure whether to giggle at how cute it is or coo at how pitiful Shadow looks, trying to alleviate the sneezing. “Poor baby,” Tim says softly, and Shadow’s eyes immediately lock onto him before looking away as though caught in the act of doing something wrong. Tim chuckles. “I’m going to take Shadow to my room,” Tim says to Jus, “Oskar never goes in there, so maybe it’ll be better.”

Jus hums and nods. “It’s so sad Shadow’s allergic. Hopefully Bae-in knows some way to help.”

“Hopefully,” Tim agrees. Then, he neatly puts the unused straw back in its basket and carries both along with Shadow into his bedroom.

Once there, the cat continues the exploration he’d begun the day before. It’s taken a while to work up to having Shadow be comfortable in Tim’s bedroom, but now Shadow happily takes up residence on Tim’s desk or Tim’s bed or even the cat-bed in the corner Tim still hasn’t removed from Dracarys’s days of laying there. No point in throwing it away now, not when Shadow likes it perfectly well.

There’s still sunlight outside, though the sun sinks rapidly with how late it is. Tim continues braiding straw until the light grows poor, signalling that bedtime is near at hand, so he puts away the straw in its two baskets under the bed, stored in a plastic container so cat claws and dog hair can’t depreciate its market value. Selling the braided straw will get a little extra money - not that money is slim, but it’s nice to have for winter - and Tim can still save enough to make hats and mats in winter.

He gets ready for bed, then, and while he showers and brushes his teeth and puts on pyjamas, Shadow grooms himself and roams the house, returning to Tim once the witch is sitting comfortably in bed.

“Shadow,” Tim calls with a high, sweet tone, and Shadow almost immediately leaps up onto the bed and into Tim’s lap. “Shadow, you gotta stay inside the day after tomorrow, okay?” Tim acts serious for but a moment. “There’s someone who wants to see you!” he says happily. Surely Nick would love Shadow!

The cat meows at him, and Tim smiles back.

He can’t wait.

\---

It's chaotic pixie Matyas and Nick looking absolutely adorable! I love these so much, thank you again to @hannivanillie on Twitter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately i might be a bit off-schedule next week :( due to irl circumstances  
> i'll do my best to have chapter 5 out next saturday though!


	5. Strawberry Swirl, Lemon-Hibiscus Tea, Iced Catmint Tea

Breakfast is an unusual affair in their shared house.

Sometimes it’s eggs, sometimes an omelette with fresh vegetables and onions, sometimes just a few pieces of toast for Tim. Jus is well-known to have a latte or two for breakfast, while Oskar typically goes for making pancakes or, on one particularly weird occasion, eating raw meat. In Oskar’s defense, his stomach is capable of handling it, and he’d been out foraging for a few days, so he was probably in desperate need of meat. Still pretty weird to see, though.

On this particular Saturday, Tim is feeling generous, so, while he cooks the ground chicken he uses to supplement Shadow’s wet food, he cooks a little extra. With the extra chicken and some peppers, spinach and green onions still dripping with morning dew, he makes a nice frittata for them all, and he eats his slice in quick bites while he prepares more ingredients for the shop that day. There’s coffee to be ground and the cream pitcher to be refilled and yesterday’s strawberries to slice up for pretty garnishes in drinks and desserts and the new potions need to be set out - and that’s just part of what Tim has to get done. Along the way, Shadow walks over to greet him with a headbutt to the shin. Tim takes a break from shop work to give Shadow his breakfast. Nick can’t make it to the shop today to see Shadow, according to the text Tim’s phone received an hour or two ago, so Tim doesn’t bother to keep Shadow in Tim’s room, today. The process of confining a cat can be dealt with tomorrow. For now, Shadow chows down and sneaks through the cat-flap, on his way to prowl the garden.

Tim smiles after the cat, then returns to juicing lemons for lemonade syrup, the perfect way to make plain as well as bubbly lemonade without requiring two batches of drinks.

Jus and Oskar wake up after Tim, like they normally do. He can hear the shower running upstairs - probably Oskar, though maybe it’s both of them - and just a few minutes later, Jus grabs a cup of coffee from Tim along with a slice of the frittata. He gives Tim a grateful smile, which Tim nods to and returns. Upon trading places with Jus and Oskar, who are more than happy to take over the preparation of the shop for the day’s work, Tim grabs his basket of braided straw and his old, yellow-tinged, clear plastic umbrella. The blackhaw to the left of the shop’s door had predicted rain today, and it’s almost never wrong. To most witches, rain is no need for worry - even the simplest mastery of water magic can perform the same function as a physical umbrella and keep the rain off a witch’s body and possessions - but Tim’s magic can’t do that. Instead, he still carries the generic umbrella he’d received in school when his inability first became apparent. No real disadvantage there, at least. He can make the umbrella float alongside him, too, so he doesn’t even lose the use of his hands. It’s not like wet clothes bother him, either, especially not in the hot summer months when he doesn’t have to worry about losing too much body heat. The real reason for the umbrella is the straw Tim hopes to sell. 

His handiwork gives him a sense of pride and it sells for a high price thanks to his meticulousness in selecting the straw and braiding it, and, though he doesn’t need the extra money, it’s nice to have, and he knows multiple people at the market who look forward to buying his braided straw from the straw vendor. It simply wouldn’t be right to let them end up with rain-warped straw instead of the sturdy, straight-edged braids they want.

The fact that he carries the straw in a basket proves to be helpful, too. While Tim puts on his town-shoes, Shadow draws closer. His paws are relatively clean, even after his romp in the garden, so it must not be raining yet. Shadow meows at Tim, who just chuckles. “Wanna come with me to the market?” he asks, slipping his other shoe on with basket and umbrella in hand.

“Mrrrrp,” Shadow answers.

Tim shrugs. Might be a yes, might be a no. Either way, he starts on his way down the street with Shadow at his heels, and the walk to the market is the most enjoyable Tim has had since Dracarys’s joints started to decline. He chats with Mihael about the other green witch's mini-garden in his shared flat while Shadow hides behind his legs from the two big ravens, one albino and one black, on Mihael's shoulders, and the straw gets just as good of a price as Tim had hoped. On the way back, Shadow even hops into the now-empty basket.

Tim makes sure to hold the basket with both hands, then, so it doesn’t sway and startle Shadow. He arrives back home with a basketful of cat and another basketful of herbs and he lays out his purchases on the kitchen counter for ease of use. There are a number of things that need to be made today, from wisdom potions to some tinctures for Aaron to teas to charms and sachets. Jus will have to make the tinctures, but Tim can make everything else, so he sets himself to it while Jus and Oskar open the shop up.

As always, there’s a decent amount of work to be done. The local weatherwitch on the radio had forecasted today as being a bit chilly for summer as well as being rainy, so Tim has to get a pot of soup cooking for dinner as well as making more of their tea blends. He’s just bought a new tin of plain black tea and a few cinnamon sticks. Combined with the cardamom he still has in the pantry and a handful of dried star anise from earlier in the summer, plus dried ginger, cloves and a few peppercorns, Tim can easily make the perfect chai tea blend. He toasts the spices, except the ginger, and then breaks them with his favourite mortar and pestle into the right-sized pieces for steeping. The spices blend with the tea, then, in the big glass jar devoted to the shop’s chai tea. Once the morning rush is done, Tim hands the jar off to Jus, who thanks him between sips of hot coffee - probably his second of the morning, after which Oskar always makes him switch to either decaf or tea.

The plants outside chitter and cheer as the rain pours down on them. Ordinarily, Tim would keep working through the drizzle, but the winds are rather quick today, and there’s a bit of lightning too - he’s lucky he went to the market so early, because other witches outside are hurrying to get to work or home, wherever they can take shelter. A few of their regulars pop in and stay for longer than normal to wait out the worst of the storm, and Jus greets them happily while Tim stays in the kitchen and adjusts some of the drying herbs. They need to be fluffed so they can aerate properly, without moulding or attracting bugs. It’s a good way for Tim to keep himself busy, at least until there’s a bright, high voice calling his name.

“Tim!” Laure chirps happily, “I got your rose pendant!” She dangles the little rose bloom, encased in a little vial of water with a few leaves on a pretty necklace, out for Tim to take, and he clasps it around his neck with a little difficulty.

“It looks amazing,” he says. “Thank you so much!” He gives Laure his most grateful smile and runs his fingers over the pendant. Its green magic sparks under his fingers, feeling tingly and warm and alive, like pure energy and the best sunshiny day when his plants are most powerful. “Is- it feels like magic,” he notes. 

Laure grins at him, and the flowers in her hair flutter excitedly. “I put a bit in for you!” she cheers. “Feel free to channel it, it should recharge with sunlight and with plants nearby. Oh, and there’s a _tiny_ little bit of glamour in there,” she adds with a wink. As soon as she says it, Tim can tell it’s there, with little pink glitters of magic in the water making him feel lighter and more confident. “Just for a little help,” she says. “Good luck with Nick!”

Tim turns red, but thanks her again, and she zips out of the shop’s doors with two iced coffees in hand and the faint scent of roses in her wake. She’s probably going to join Eefje in the storm, or at least watch as her girlfriend frolics in the joyous delirium of the winds. Eefje is a sylph, after all - the powerful storm magic energises her the same way the flowing wind makes bird familiars around the block take to the skies. If Tim looked out of the kitchen windows, he could probably watch as Petter twists and dives in the sky, eagle-owl wings keeping him afloat. As it stands, he can only see Blood Moon, Mihael’s albino raven, taking flight. But Eclipse, the black raven, is certainly also out there.

A loud peal of thunder makes Tim flinch. Best to stay away from the windows for now. There’s no threat, but that wind is rather fierce, so Tim latches the kitchen windows shut and does the same for the shop, scuttling around in the background as per usual.

It rains for most of the day. Tim doesn’t really mind - it can get boring inside, but his plants are surely enjoying themselves, and he can keep himself busy with extra work. There are still potatoes and carrots and celery to chop for soup, and, since the storm will likely be bad enough to keep him inside at least until the evening, Tim can make some simple bread rolls to go with it. Not like he has anything more pressing to do. It’s a sleepy, peaceful day.

Shadow sneaks out during the day, and Tim finds him sitting on the step outside the back door after he’s been gone for so long Tim had started to worry. Together, they sit under the slight overhang of the home and shop’s roof. The rain is mesmerising and comforting, as it turns from a fierce storm into a light drizzle over the course of the day, and Shadow’s warmth in Tim’s lap is equally comforting and relaxing.

The next day, everything in Tim’s garden is bright and green and excited, well-watered after such a long soaking in the rain. They chatter to him eagerly - the cherry tree can’t wait to tell him all about the little birds that had sheltered from the storm in its branches, and Tim listens with a smile on his face as he checks over the wind damage to his garden. Luckily it’s mostly superficial. He should easily have it done by lunchtime, and he can make sure he looks okay to chat with Nick today. There are branches and spare leaves scattered around, and a few torn flowers, so Tim collects all the litter and throws it into his compost bin. From there, it’s business as normal. A few of his plants need fertiliser, some need an extra boost of energy after weathering the storm, most need a trimming to rid them of damaged leaves and half-broken stems. Thankfully they’re all still watered from the downpour.

When Tim heads inside for lunch, there’s still one thing he needs to tend to - Shadow. Nick will be coming today, according to another few late-night texts, and Tim wants to make sure Shadow is there to see him. Before he gets his own food, he scoops Shadow up from his perch on the porch swing, to keep him inside for the two hours until Nick typically arrives.

“We have a visitor coming today, so you have to stay with me, okay?” Tim says with a smile as he sets Shadow down on the countertop. He gives Shadow a good scratch behind the ears, then grabs some leftover stir-fry noodles for lunch and a few pieces of chicken for Shadow.

Once lunch is finished and the dishes have been washed, the waiting begins. Tim has to wait with Shadow in his lap, or at least nearby and within sight to meet Nick, whom Tim so desperately wants to meet Shadow. It would be so nice if they could spend time with a cat’s presence, not to mention how happy it would make Tim to have someone to talk to about Shadow, his dear stray.

But mid-afternoon comes and passes, and Nick still is not there. Shadow makes a short-lived escape attempt, irking Tim and his patience, but it will just be a little bit longer, right? No worries.

So he waits.

And he waits.

And he waits some more.

“Just a little longer,” Tim tells Shadow, catching the cat as he tries to leap off Tim’s lap. With gentle but firm hands, Tim holds Shadow down against his thighs even as Shadow meows and murmurs and grumble at him.

Eyes wide, Shadow looks up at Tim and makes a quiet “mrrrr.”

“I know it’s boring - just a little longer and you can go hunt mice in the garden,” Tim promises with still patient strokes along Shadow’s back. Hopefully nothing bad happened to Nick - there hasn’t even been a text from him in the meantime. Maybe he forgot.

Shadow just mumbles and sinks his head into Tim’s lap. Tim absentmindedly pets Shadow while taking anxious glances towards the shop’s front door.

Evening falls on Tim, who still waits, and Shadow meows again, sounding almost sad. Tim massages Shadow’s soft fur, then nudges Shadow’s bum. “You can go play now, kitty,” he says with a sigh. Before Shadow jumps off Tim’s lap, though, he turns around and rubs his head against Tim’s shoulder, and Tim chuckles as he pets Shadow. “Thank you,” he whispers, not sure if Shadow will understand him. 

But Shadow meows as though he does. He leaps off of Tim’s lap, then, and trots out to the garden. Tim watches as Shadow promptly vanishes into the thicket of plants, making up for lost time with speed and excitement.

Tim sighs again.

At least Nick sends him a text a few minutes later, apologising for his absence and promising to be there on the day after next, so they can have drinks together and chat. It’s enough to soothe Tim’s worry and fear for the time being. 

“No-show?” Jus asks over dinner, not even bothering to mention a name. It’s not like Tim invites anyone else to come to the shop just to see him. Not like that means anything untoward.

“No,” Tim answers, doing his best not to sound dejected. “He said a work meeting came up.”

“Mmh. Did he reschedule, at least?” Oskar asks. “He should have rescheduled.”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be back in two days,” Tim says, munching on vegetables when he can, in little breaks in their inquiry. “Why are you so interested?”

“I mean, if my friend gets a boyfriend, I kinda wanna know what he’s like,” Jus says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not my boyfriend,” Tim says, just as matter-of-fact as Jus is.

“Yet,” Oskar teases with a wink.

“Shut up.”

Oskar and Jus giggle, but let Tim eat in relative peace while they chatter and he chips in an occasional remark about the weather and their customers.

So more time passes - not like things ever change much for Tim, whose life is pretty standard; the most interesting thing that happens to him on the visit-less day is Shadow coming home with muddy paws and tracking dirt into the kitchen, but Miss Molly takes care of that quickly enough, so it barely causes any interruption in Tim’s life anyway. The day after that, Tim decides to try a different approach than sitting with Shadow restrained on his lap for hours, waiting for Nick.

Maybe Tim can let Shadow be more free today, and not worry about trying to keep him in place for so long. In any case, Shadow always comes home when Tim eats lunch, if only so he can have a few bites of extra cat food as a snack.

But Shadow doesn’t come back for lunch.

He’s not even in the garden when Tim calls - Tim can’t find him anywhere.

As he stands, perplexed, surveying his garden for a glimpse of a yellow tabby tail raised high amongst the flowers and herbs and bushes, his phone buzzes.

 _i’m on my way! ^.^_ says Nick from their texts back and forth. For a few more minutes, Tim searches his garden for any trace of Shadow, hoping he might just be catnapping or hiding or hunting somewhere despite the fact that all his plants tell him they can’t sense the cat right now. All his efforts are to no avail. Tim gives up with a sigh and goes to sit at the table he so often shares with Nick, now, and when he has a few spare moments, Jus brings him an iced glass of lemon-hibiscus tea.

“No Shadow?” Jus asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Can’t find him,” Tim says, shrugging nonchalantly and gratefully sipping the flowery tea.

“Weird. He used to follow you around constantly.”

Tim just shrugs again and does his best to look cheery until Nick arrives, though he finds his gaze wandering to the window constantly. Where might Shadow be? Should Tim be worried?

There’s not much he can do.

“Tim, you there?” someone asks as Tim stares blankly into the distance.

With a jolt, Tim looks up. Nick just smiles at him. “Oh- sorry, hi.”

“Hi,” Nick says with a giggle. “So how have you been?”

“Alright,” Tim says. At the very least, having someone to chat with, someone who isn’t Jus or Oskar, provides relief to the tedium of worrying over Shadow’s changing habits.

“You okay?” Nick asks with a smile once Tim stops staring out the window. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. No cat today, sorry, he’s… I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s fine. is that why you keep looking out of the window?”

Tim chuckles awkwardly. “Is it distracting? Sorry,” he mumbles.

“No, I don’t mind. Is he out there?”

“No,” Tim answers with a sip of his drink. “But it’s fine... maybe I’ll get him to stay some other time.” Maybe Tim can keep Shadow penned up in his room instead of on his lap this time. The extra space to move should prevent Shadow from getting antsy, and Tim could even take a break from gardening to play with Shadow. He still has those old feather-toys Dracarys loved. Might as well use them for something.

“Cats can be fickle,” Nick says, shrugging. “No need to try and force it, I guess I’ll meet him when he’s willing.”

“Yeah, I guess. Shadow just… I don’t know. Normally he follows me around everywhere and lately he keeps wandering off a lot.”

Nick hums as he sips his iced americano. “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he murmurs.

Tim tears his eyes away from the window - now is no time to be worrying. He changes the topic to more of their small-talk, about their daily lives and little trivia about magic, since it turns out they both work with plants, and the conversation is just as pleasant as talking with Nick always is. After an hour or two, Nick has to leave, but he leaves Tim with such a lovely smile that Tim simply has to smile and laugh back.

But as Nick leaves and the shop’s door and bell jangle, the smile slips from his face.

The happiness fades, and the worry returns.

The fact that Shadow has been so absent lately worries Tim. He hasn’t even heard any plant-gossip concerning his cat other than the sightings the sidewalk weeds get of him scurrying away through the city streets. Shadow must be going somewhere far, far away if Tim can’t hear any word of his presence through the grapevines.

Maybe it’s time to take Shadow to Bae-in. Bae-in, one of their early-morning customers, is also the local shaman, and he runs a veterinary practise and an animal shelter with Petter. He’s well-aware of Dracarys’s passing and Tim’s persistent love for cats, and he would understand Tim’s worry. Out of anyone Tim knows, Bae-in is the most likely to accept Tim’s idea of bonding to Shadow.

Jus has always disapproved of moving quickly, but what does he know of the pain of losing a-

Tim stops himself. Jus loses one of his familiars to a love of adventure every spring, and he loses the other to hunting every three months.

Still, Jus has always had plenty of people to talk to. Tim hasn’t. It’s important that he keep what little company he has close-by, regardless of whether that company is his friends or the plants in his garden or the stray cat that twines around his feet each night and has unexplainably muddy paws in the morning. If Tim continues to not have Shadow as his familiar, who knows what harm might come to the little cat? Familiars have protection, identification, a family and a home and food. Strays have none of that.

Yes, Tim must take Shadow to Bae-in soon, before something bad happens.

“I’m going to take Shadow to Bae-in tomorrow,” he says over dinner, sitting with Jus and Oskar in a moment of relative silence. “For the allergies... and to schedule the familiar bonding.” Shadow still comes home at night, yes, but it’s worrying that he’s gone for so long during the day for no apparent reason. Fixing Shadow’s allergies could help him feel more comfortable at home. Combining that with the familiar bonding could help even more. While bonding between people provides a permanent connection like that of marriage, bonding to a pet would let Tim both adopt Shadow and have the same mental connection that Tim has with his plants - they could talk then, and Tim could understand more about Shadow, if Shadow were willing to share. It would give Tim a lot of peace of mind, too. Just to know where Shadow is going would soothe Tim’s worries dramatically.

But Jus’s fork clatters down onto his plate. “What?” he asks in a tone of disbelief that makes Tim almost flinch. The sounds of Shadow eating seem to pause for a split second, too – but they resume so quickly that Tim isn’t sure if they ever stopped. Shadow probably just heard his name and was curious. Tim hopes he doesn’t have any objections.

“Isn’t it a bit soon for that, Tim?” Oskar says more slowly. “You’ve only had him for a month, at most.”

“Well- it’ll probably happen next week. I think it will work...” Tim murmurs. It kind of has to. What if Shadow keeps wandering and Tim can’t nudge him towards staying home? He might get hurt, or sick, or even- even… No. That won’t happen. It- it can’t. It won’t.

“Okay,” Jus says with a little nod. “If you’re confident… Good luck, you two.”

“Thanks, Jusi.”

Shadow stays silent, but he keeps munching away. After he swallows his last mouthful, he scampers over to Tim and up onto Tim’s lap the same way he does every night.

Tim lights a little catmint as the sky grows darker with the dusk and he lets the smoke drift out his window. The thin, tiny flame burns down the stem of the catmint as Tim watches, but before he realises the speed at which it eats up the dried herbs, it consumes the last bit, nipping Tim’s fingers and leaving smoky black burn marks behind. He flinches, shaking his hands in the cool night air to eliminate the sting, but the damage has been done. Two black scorches persist even after he washes his hands, but maybe that injury could be another way of showing his devotion to Shadow. Hopefully Yuumi, goddess of cats and familiars, appreciates the sacrifice and might bless the union and keep Shadow with Tim.

For now, though, Tim would settle for Shadow meeting Nick and not having to deal with allergies. A trip to Bae-in during Tim’s lunch break, where Shadow seems more curious than anything else by their little day-trip, confirms what Tim and Jus and Oskar had suspected. 

Bae-in inspects Shadow’s nose and breathing with gentle yet quick movements, calling out to Petter about feeding some of their animals all the while. “Allergies to dogs,” Bae-in says to Tim, giving Shadow a light petting in the meantime. “Cats have it in a pretty similar way to humans. Normal allergy medicine works as long as it’s in a really small dose - here, let me write it down,” he murmurs. Tim puts the little slip of paper safely in his pocket and makes a note to drop by the drugstore for liquid allergy medicine.

“Thank you,” Tim says, happy that Shadow’s allergies to Oskar will soon be in the past, as long as the medicine works properly.

“Happy to help!” Bae-in grins. “Did you need anything else? I already did a physical check-up, but I can talk with him for a bit, if you have time.”

Shadow tilts his head under Bae-in’s lithe fingers. “Yes, that would be nice,” Tim says. “I wanted to get your opinion on familiar-bonding, too. If that’s alright.”

Bae-in blinks and looks blank for a moment. “Yes, that’s fine. It’ll just be a moment,” he says in the clinical manner he uses for his veterinary work as he grabs a crystal from a shelf on the wall. It’s smooth and rounded, with an opaque milky colour that reminds Tim of a cloud. Bae-in holds it gently to Shadow’s forehead, chanting quietly under his breath with closed eyes. 

Tim watches awkwardly for a few minutes while Bae-in communicates with Shadow through a temporary spiritual connection, channelled by the crystal. After a few minutes, Bae-in moves the crystal back to its spot on the shelf and he leaves Shadow with a few extra ear-scritches.

“He’s in good condition. Very coherent, very intelligent. Poor eyesight, even for a cat, so make sure your cat toys are brightly coloured so they don’t look like real prey,” Bae-in advises. “But he’s very healthy.”

“And the familiar-bonding?” Tim asks, perhaps too eagerly.

Here, Bae-in hesitates. “We can give it a try,” he says. “Ask Petter to put you in sometime next week, unless you’d rather wait for Lunasa.”

“Next week works,” Tim says with a firm nod. “I’ll ask Petter, though. Is there anything else?”

“Nope! You and Shadow are good to go,” Bae-in says, grinning. “Have a nice day, you two.”

“You, too,” Tim answers cheerily. He scoops Shadow up into his arms and goes to schedule his appointment with Petter at the receptionist desk, after which he sets Shadow down and they walk home together with the afternoon light shining gently down on them.

Then comes one last day this week to spend with Nick. After today, Tim won’t see Nick until next week, most likely - the dirty-blonde-haired boy never shows up on weekends due to work - so it’s time for a last resort: Tim breaks out an old collar and leash set he once bought for Dracarys, only to rarely use it because she disdained the red colour so much. It seems like it would suit Shadow’s golden fur, so perhaps Shadow will tolerate it more?

Instead, he yowls plaintively even before Tim fastens the collar, and he won’t let Tim get close so long as the collar is within easy reach, so Tim puts it away again. Maybe Shadow has had some bad experiences with collars and leashes and being leashed to one area. Strays don’t always have happiness and safety, after all. Better to respect that Shadow doesn’t want the collar, even if Tim really desperately wants a way to keep Shadow home. He carefully shuts the window, instead, and he grabs a feather-plume toy on a long stick to keep his hands out of the way of Shadow’s pounces and claws. Tim can take an off-day today and add on a few extra duties throughout the week. It’s not like his garden will perish without his constant attention, though the morning glories on the highest tier of Tim’s planters would certainly fake a death or two just to make him talk to them a bit more.

But they can take an afternoon of silence - not even silence, really, since they have so many other friends in the garden. Right now, Tim has other priorities, like trying to keep Shadow occupied for the two hours until Nick typically arrives at the cafe. Feathers and fake prey can only do so much for a cat.

Then again, sleeping tends to do the rest, so it’s whatever, really.

Somewhere in the afternoon, Tim isn’t exactly sure when, it’s all just a lazy haze, Shadow curls up on his chest and falls asleep. Evidently, he’s exhausted after more interaction and play, even if it’s just with Tim, the one Shadow is most comfortable with, and Shadow sleepily kneads at the fabric of Tim’s shirt, purring all the while. Tim can’t help but smile.

His eyelids start to droop. He’s not normally one for naps, but everything is so slow and smooth and hazy that maybe a few minutes of a shuteye couldn’t possibly hurt, right? So Tim closes his eyes with a happy cat laying on his chest, and they get a bit of sleep together.

When Tim wakes up again, Shadow is pawing at the door. Tim’s first sleepy thought is that Shadow wants his downstairs litterbox instead of the one in Tim’s room. Fine, no big deal.

Tim opens the door.

And Shadow darts away before Tim can even process what just happened.

He sighs. Of course it’s his fault. Yeah, the last two times weren’t, but this time he was _so close_ to having Shadow and Nick meet and then it fell apart. Maybe Yuumi just like playing jokes on him.

At least Nick shows up again. It’s nice to have a little stability in Tim’s tumultuous life right now, even if it’s only a visit from a friend for now and not anything more. It’s nice. It’s also a good way to get the trouble of Shadow off his mind, even if his beverage reminds him over and over again. Tim is still drinking from the batch of catmint tea he had made at the start of the week, now icing it with a bit of honey for sweetness to add a little variety; he has his iced catmint tea while Nick sips an iced caramel coffee.

“What are you drinking?” Nick asks between their chatter about the seasons and the harvest and Nick’s job as a landscaper. Tim had wondered if his more fickle plants might enjoy a trimming from Nick – sometimes a different touch can have drastic results, and the rosebush always complains of twists and kinks in its magic even if it is always careful to tell Tim that he’s doing a good job. Even if Nick doesn’t have the perfect touch, it might be nice to work with him in the garden.

Shyly as ever, Tim looks up at Nick’s pretty eyes. “Catmint tea,” Tim answers. 

“Oh, does that have magic, too?” Nick has been trying to learn about green magic, whether because of Tim or because of his own lack of magic, and Tim is as eager as ever to teach him about Tim’s magical mastery. Though, today... it’s a bit rougher. Tim takes a quick steadying breath. Now is no time to be getting distracted - he has all evening to be stupid and sad and morose over Shadow. He should enjoy Nick’s company for now.

“Yes,” Tim says plainly. “It’s for good luck and prosperity.”

“Ah,” Nick murmurs. “I see…”

They sip their drinks in silence, then. Oddly enough, Tim doesn’t mind it. Usually he hates excessive silence and gaps in conversation, but this… this feels okay. He drinks from his tea and continues to let his gaze bounce from Nick to the window and back to Nick until Nick clears his throat with a tiny, cute little grumble. “Sorry if I’m prying,” he says quickly, “but did something bad happen? You seem kind of down, lately. I… I’m a little worried.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Nick adds after a few more moments of Tim’s wide-eyed silence, “I know it’s weird to be worried when we’re still getting to know each other, I just worry a lot, so… yeah.”

“Oh,” Tim sighs, a small rush of breath and well-disguised sadness, but smiles at Nick anyway. Tim wouldn’t want Nick to think it was Nick’s fault, after all. “Don’t worry about it- I mean,” he clarifies with a sheepish giggle, “it’s fine. I worry a lot, too. It’s just my stray- you know, the one I wanted you to meet? He’s… he’s been running off a lot, lately,” Tim says quietly. “I’m more worried than I thought, I guess.”

“Isn’t that what strays do?” Nick asks with a half-sad half-smile. “He should know how to fend for himself. I’m sure he’ll be okay, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Gently, his foot nudges Tim’s leg under the table, and Tim can’t help but smile - it’s a sweet little gesture, both reassuring and heart-warming. 

“Yeah.” Tim sighs a little sigh again. “I know I shouldn’t be so worried. I just… I don’t know. I wanted him to stay with me and be my pet, be my familiar, all that. I guess I’m just being clingy to a cat,” Tim says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I don’t think it’s just being clingy,” Nick says, tapping Tim’s foot with his own. “I bet he worries about you, too. Cats worry about their people more than they seem to.” He sips his iced americano with a little quirk of his lips, almost a smile but not quite. It’s the perfect in-between, really, and it makes him look welcoming and friendly and Tim can’t take his eyes off Nick.

So he just agrees with a nod. “Yes, you’re right,” he says. “You know a lot about cats and their temperament for someone who’s never had a cat.” Tim teases lightly. “Most people either think they’re spoiled and rude or they glorify them as the perfect familiar.”

But Nick blanches at the observation, and Tim fears he’s done something wrong. “Oh, do they?” Nick awkwardly chuckles. “I- I feed the strays outside my flat sometimes. And I like watching them, like, do their stuff, you know? And, I mean, people and their cat familiars always interest me, so I guess I’ve picked up some knowledge along the way,” he rambles. Tim smiles again - he seems to do that a lot around Nick.

"Oh! I wonder if our strays are friends,” Tim muses aloud, his earlier worry about Nick already dissolved into thin air like the honey in his tea. Wouldn’t that be cute? Their strays being friends, and he and Nick being close… how poetically adorable!

"That would be cool! You said he was a yellow tabby with brown eyes, right?" 

Tim nods. 

"I'll keep an eye out for him."

Tim thanks him. They chat about everything and nothing until their drinks run dry, until the ice in Tim’s tea and Nick’s coffee melts down into nothing more but water, and then, when the sun’s rays shine straight through the shop’s windows, Nick says his farewell.

It’s a nice addition to Tim’s weekly routine, and Tim finds that he enjoys how his life is slowly changing right now, like a flower in blossom or a leaf fading into orange and red and falling in autumn.

But that routine falls apart within the day.

Shadow doesn’t come home for dinner.

And Tim’s worry becomes sickening.

Oskar and Jus try to draw him inside for dinner, to at least eat well even though Shadow isn’t there, and Jus is almost successful - the lure of icecream is rather strong, after all. But the trees cheer and chatter, so maybe Shadow is home, and Tim has to go see, or at least check, he’ll just be a minute… One minute turns into two into half an hour of Tim constantly popping up to go look.

“Tim. Sit. Eat,” Jus demands.

He chokes down his dinner while keeping an eye on the window.

Then, Tim takes Shadow’s untouched food bowl and sits outside. He waits for hours in the dark, swatting away a few pesky bugs and looking out into the shadows of his garden, hoping to see one beloved Shadow. Every once in a while, he shakes the food bowl in his hand for an extra bit of allure, and he makes soft, high-pitched sounds to try and call Shadow home.

“Tim,” Oskar says gently, after even Rasmus’s lights down the street go out, “it’s time to come inside.” 

“No- He’ll be home soon, I know it,” Tim protests, still staring into the night, but Oskar pats his shoulder again.

“Go to bed, Tim,” Oskar says more firmly this time. He doesn’t even bother to give Tim more reassurance.

“Just a few more minutes…” Tim nibbles at his fingernails. He can’t look away from the garden. What if Shadow comes back in just a few more minutes? What if he’s hungry, and hurt, and sad, and tired, and he’s waiting to see Tim and he’s struggling to get home and Tim isn’t there waiting for him? What if-

“Tim, go inside and get some rest. I’ll sleep downstairs so I can hear him when he comes home, okay?”

Reluctantly, Tim nods and tears his eyes away from the garden and midnight sky. “Put this inside but close to the door,” he says, handing Oskar Shadow’s food bowl, still full of good cat food and chicken.

“I will,” Oskar says with a smile. He helps Tim to his feet, then gives him a warm hug that makes Tim feel a little bit better - at the very least, he’s not still anxiously nibbling on his dirty fingernails. “It’ll be okay,” he adds. “Shadow will be home before you wake up tomorrow, alright? Even if I have to go hunt him down.”

Timi giggles a little at that, though he has no doubt that Oskar really would hunt through the city for Shadow, following every trace of the little tabby’s scent just to find him for Tim. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and Oskar pats his back, then sends him to bed.

Still, Tim can’t quite sleep just yet. Maybe- just one more check downstairs won’t hurt, surely- just one more look won’t hurt, and maybe Tim will see Shadow waiting for him or hungrily eating his dinner. He’s probably so hungry, by now! So, just in case, Tim sneaks downstairs, just for that one last look of the night.

There’s a little puff, the kind of noise that always accompanies an ixtal’s shifting, and then a voice that catches Tim in the shop.

“Tim,” Oskar says, sounding sleepy and irritated.

“Yes?” Tim asks after a moment.

“Go upstairs.”

“Right, I was going to,” Tim says meekly, “just- wanted a drink of water.”

“Mmhmm,” Oskar answers, sounding entirely unconvinced. “Go upstairs.”

“Okay,” he nearly whispers.

“Shadow and I will be here in the morning, Tim,” Oskar says with the same reassuring, fond and teasing tone Jus would use on Tim. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Tim answers, and the little puffing noise tells him Oskar has shifted into a dog again. He takes his cup of water and a few sprigs of catmint flowers, swirling them clockwise in the cup, then anticlockwise, then setting the cup on his windowsill between the aloe veras and potted jasmine for good luck and restful sleep despite his worries.

Hopefully Oskar is right.

\---

Lovely art of Laure and Bae-in!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the upload/chapter quality, it's a bit scuffed but i wanted to make sure you all had your chapter today, especially since i promised to have it yesterday ;-;  
> something about chapter 5's just doesnt agree with me, huh... same thing happened on Sleepless About You (Both)
> 
> but i will proofread and fix over the next few days!  
> and the next chapter will be out on saturday!
> 
> i hope you still enjoyed this chapter ^^


	6. Caramel Iced Americano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it okay for Nick to stay?  
> Is it?  
> Is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again and not late this time! ^^

Every so often, Nick simply has to disappear. He’s been leaving every night - he has to, to do the odd jobs around the city that get him enough money to feed himself and afford antidepressants and antianxiety medication, and to take his meds. Skipping a day isn’t an option. It could make him sick in the literal sense, or even worsen his symptoms. Just trust it. Nick has messed around often enough in the past with trying to cut down on his dosage, spread it out over a few days, maybe, just to save the expense, and he’s been bitten more often than not. Panic attacks, spells of anxiety, insomnia, nausea… Nick has run the gauntlet and learned enough to stop messing with his medicine, and both his body and his apothecary are grateful.

“Oh! Hello there,” the woman behind the counter chirps as Nick enters the store. “You’re lucky you got here in time, I was just about to close up!”

Nick stares blankly at her for a moment. “Um. Hi,” he says, shaking off his surprise, “yeah. Sorry, it’s late,” he chuckles. She just smiles at him kindly.

“Gerrit is in the back. I’m studying pharmacology, so I’m helping here for a bit.” Her nametag reads Luci.

Suddenly, Nick remembers where he’s seen her before.

“Here to refill a prescription?” she asks pleasantly.

“Yeah,” Nick answers. “For Nick de Cesare. Should be fluoxetine and multivitamins.”

Luci nods and hurries into the back of the shop, where Gerrit is presumably arranging other medicines and tinctures and potions for his shop’s supply, and in the meantime, Nick looks around the apothecary’s store. Everything looks pretty much the same as it always does, to be honest. Luci from the cafe is a new addition at the store, and her cat Roxy is too, but she just keeps grooming herself and watching over the potions rack with an eye at all times, so she probably doesn’t recognise Nick. Or, maybe she does and she’s being considerate.

When Luci comes back out with his meds and his vitamins, Nick pays her with the bit of cash he’s accumulated over the month, then bids her a quick farewell.

He gives Roxy a scratch behind the ears as he leaves.

She returns the kindness with a feline wink.

Under the cover of gentle moonlight that streams kindly over his back - perhaps Aphelios and Alune and Diana are watching over him tonight - Nick slinks in through the crack in Tim’s garden’s fence and then through the cat-door. The rich smell of cat-food and chicken greets him as soon as he steps foot into the house.

Nick’s mouth waters a little.

But before he can grab his very late dinner, a shadowy form rises in the darkness and a puff of magic, becoming a human lying on the floor. Becoming Oskar. “Well, look who’s finally home,” he says.

Nick meows amiably. Internally, he can’t quite figure out why Oskar is on the floor. Maybe he and Jus had a fight? Even then there’s a sofa upstairs. Hm.

“You know how much you made Tim worry? He barely even ate his dinner. Bad kitty,” Oskar grumbles, sitting up as Nick watches with careful, wary eyes. 

A quick sneeze - Oskar’s fur must still be in the air, and Tim hasn’t yet begun feeding Nick any allergy medicine. Though of course Nick feels awful, he had to get his medicine and run back to his home bridge to get himself settled and washed. It’s not like there’s any other course of action, but maybe Nick could try to make it up to Tim. There’s a few mice in the pantry that need dealing with, and Nick can always help Tim by just watching out for him.

“Hey,” Oskar says firmly as Nick starts to slink towards the food bowl, laden with wet food and real, human-cooked chicken. Gods, before Tim, it had been so long since Nick had good human food. It’s not like the chicken is ever seasoned or even carefully-cooked to be tender and juicy, but the little scrambled bits still always taste so good, whether hot from the pan or cold out of the fridge or warmed in a microwave. The smell is tantalising. Nick hasn’t eaten since early in the morning, when Tim last fed him. He’s aching to chow down, but- “Look at me,” Oskar commands.

Nick only barely remembers in time that he’s nought but a cat rather than a weak, poor, easily-victimised human. He doesn’t have to do anything anyone else wants - in fact, it would be weird if he did something useful for anyone but Tim. He suppresses the urge to respect Oskar’s wishes.

“Shadow,” Oskar wheedles in a high pitch that would draw any cat’s attention, and Nick finally allows himself to look over. “Don’t do that again.”

At the very least, Nick has the decency to sheepishly knead his paws against the floor.

“Tim was worried sick. He just went to bed an hour or two ago because he stayed up waiting for you to come home.”

In his chest, Nick’s heart lurches. He hadn’t meant to make Tim so sad. Softly, he meows, looking down at his paws, still dirty with the slight grime of the streets and alleys. He should have at the very least cleaned up before he came home so he wouldn’t be so much of a bother.

But Oskar just sighs and pushes the food bowl closer to Nick, scooting along with it until both he and the bowl are at Nick’s side, and Oskar nudges it against Nick’s paws, though Nick just stares at it for a bit. Does he even deserve to eat? The good food he gets from Tim is his reward for being a good pet and companion to Tim, isn’t it? And he hasn’t been good at all, even if the disappearance was a necessity for his own health.

“Are you really not going to eat?” Oskar says in an almost ridiculing tone. “Eat the damn food. You’ve gotta be hungry if you’ve been out all night getting in- in fights, or whatever you alley cats do at night. Or else you’re sick and Tim has to take you to the vet again.” 

Meekly, Nick leans down and noses at the food. Resisting its temptation now, when the nutritious goodness of a meal is right against his whiskers, is tough. But Nick has gone through tougher things. He affects disinterest and looks around as though wanting to do something else - acting as hungry as he is might seem unusual, and, admittedly, the thought of Tim so worried does make him lose a tiny bit of his appetite. 

“What, too upset to eat? I’ve never seen an animal feel so guilty, before,” Oskar comments idly. His hands rub against Nick’s ears and head roughly. Clearly Oskar has no idea how to pet a cat, but he’s trying. Playfully, Nick swats Oskar away, making sure to keep his claws retracted as he leaps and reaches eagerly. “Makes me wonder if you’re ixtal or fae,” Oskar says.

Nick’s blood runs cold. He freezes and stops batting at Oskar’s hands. He can’t possibly actually know. It’s still safe. Nick is still safe. Oskar can’t possibly know. Nick just has to play it safe, just pretend to be a dumb cat that doesn’t know anything except eat, drink and have fun. Very slowly, very carefully, Nick begins to eat, feigning reluctance as though he had already eaten despite his overwhelming hunger at the moment. He meows to fool Oskar into thinking he’s just a stupid cat again. Traitorously, his stomach growls at just the wrong moment.

“And I’ve never seen an animal ignore being hungry.”

Beneath his fur, Nick goes white with terror, but he maintains his composure, meows lightly and starts grooming himself.

“Just eat,” Oskar grumbles. “I won’t ask questions.”

Another meow.

“You know I can’t understand you, right? So just fucking eat.” Sheepishly, Nick takes a few small bites. It takes everything in him to not wolf down the entire bowl of food at once, especially with the added cooked chicken that tastes so good, so clean and fresh, but Nick stays in control. Of course, he can’t control how his tummy snarls, aching for more food after such a long journey. “I swear to Nasus,” Oskar grumbles at the noise, “my life duty was already to keep two idiots alive, and now I’m adding a third?”

Meow.

“Just eat before I shove your face into the food bowl.”

Nick might as well obey. Even if Oskar knows he’s a person within the shape of a cat, he at least doesn’t know who, and he seems trustworthy and quiet enough to not tell Tim.

Not that it matters. Nick already has to leave, anyway.

Living two lives is dangerous. People hate being tricked, even if Nick didn’t mean to trick them, and he’s been hurt on multiple occasions because of it. It’s even worse when Nick has been fooling someone for a while - like Tim. 

Nick doesn’t think Tim would hurt him, but, well, he doesn’t have a whole lot of trust in humans. Besides, at some point being in Tim’s life as both Shadow and Nick just becomes impossible. He can’t be in two places at once, and with every meeting that he fails to make as either Nick or Shadow, Tim gets sadder and sadder. At least when Nick is Nick, he can reassure Tim, cheer him up with words and little touches. When Nick is Shadow, all he can hope to do is distract Tim with purrs and playfulness.

It will be time, very soon, that Shadow must leave and never return.

The next week or so is a blur of happy meetups with Tim as Nick and coming home at night and early before Tim wakes up as Shadow. It’s a little difficult, and he almost always responds to Tim’s texts far too late, but it’s nice. Tim even sends Nick a picture of Shadow sitting in his lap, with a sweet smile on Tim’s face and Shadow reaching up to bat at him. Of course, Nick can’t respond until hours later, when Tim is asleep and he leaves to roam the city night, but it’s still cute and fun.

Nick really, really, really likes Tim. It would be easier for both of them if Shadow-Nick were to leave forever.

Soon, just not now, Nick promises himself. Soon.

Just a few more days with Tim, falling asleep in Tim’s arms, purring up a storm under Tim’s gentle, loving, skilful hands, playing with cat toys or pieces of straw with Tim, waiting out rainy days with Tim, watching Tim harvest and cook, curling up in the cat-bed or next to Tim at night. 

Just a few more days.

\---

After dinner a few days later, Tim scoops Nick up in his arms. “We’re going to visit Bae-in again,” he singsongs to his cat, grabbing his pointed hat off the bannister of the stairs as he walks out of the door. He’s so eager, Nick can feel it in Tim’s step as he nearly bounces along the way to Bae-in’s practise, recognisable by the scents of other cats and a handful of dogs, rats, snakes and a great big owl. The owl ixtal - Petter, Nick barely remembers - has his wings out when they see him at the reception desk.

“Hey Tim,” Petter says with a smile, clicking around on the computer, probably checking them in and looking over some things for them. “You’re all set- you have the catmint?”

Tim nods and pulls a thick bundle of catmint from one of the pockets in his gardening skirt.

“Go ahead, then. Bae-in is waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Tim says with a shy nod, already scurrying away into Bae-in’s office with Nick and the catmint in his arms. The catmint is dried, and its scent is strong. Nick is almost of a mind to snap some up and munch on it, but before he can even paw at the leaves and stems and blossoms, they enter the darkened room of Bae-in’s office, lit only by a few ceremonial candles, and Nick’s sense of doom increases. The last time he was here, Bae-in had spoken into his mind and yet hadn’t given away his secret to Tim.

Who knows what will happen today?

In the darkness, which Nick’s eyes quickly adjust to and see through, Tim hands over a thick bundle of catmint to Bae-in. Catmint for good luck and prosperity, or so Tim had told him.

Tonight, it probably mostly means good luck to Tim, and the worst kind of misfortune for Nick.

“Ready to begin?” Bae-in asks quietly, adjusting a few of the candles that lay in a circle around them.

Tim nods firmly. Nick doesn’t move a muscle.

The ritual starts smoothly, as far as Nick can tell. Bae-in’s eyes glow a gentle, grassy green in the dimly-lit room. The candle, too, flickers green as Bae-in works his magic with the help of the crystals surrounding him, which sparkle and shimmer from within as Bae-in touches and manipulates them, and everything shines so green that it can’t be a coincidence. It must have something to do with Tim’s green garden magic. Nick watches every movement anxiously. Everything from the light scent of smoke in the room to the faint scent of catmint to the feeling of Tim’s lap beneath him reminds Nick of the pressure he’s under, where no choice he makes is the right one. 

Tim sighs a deep, heartfelt sigh, and it seems that part one of the ritual is over. The candle, Bae-in’s eyes, and the crystals begin to shimmer golden rather than green, and a voice echoes into Nick’s mind.

 _Are you aware of what is happening?_ Bae-in asks him, barely-visible magic swirling in the shadows between his hands. They’ve spoken before, during their original appointment, when Tim had gotten the allergy medicine he now feeds a drop of to Nick with every meal. Bae-in knows.

Nick doesn’t know how much to reveal. Is it worth even trying to pretend? _Somewhat,_ he answers.

_Tim wants to be your witch._

_I know,_ Nick says tersely.

_Do you want to be his familiar?_

Bae-in carries crystal upon crystal over the flame, crossing them ever so lightly through the golden light. As Nick watches, Bae-in’s hands slowly drop out of the process, leaving only a stream of crystals cresting over the candle by pure magic and with pure magic radiating from them.

 _He needs an answer,_ Bae-in reminds Nick. Tim’s legs shift beneath Nick’s small cat body. He’s getting jittery, nervous, probably wondering what’s taking this process so long, why Nick hasn’t just agreed yet, what could Bae-in and Nick possibly be talking about. _Will you accept him? Do you know what a familiar’s bond entails?_

 _Yes,_ Nick says, trying to calm the quaver in his voice. But he is unable to stop his trembling paws and trembling body at the thought of the choice he has to make. Almost reflexively, his feet knead at Tim’s legs as he shifts his weight from side to side. He could accept the bond and have Tim hate him and feel betrayed once he learns the truth of who Shadow is, or he could reject it and make Tim feel sad and betrayed just the same.

 _It’s okay to say no,_ says Bae-in. _In fact, I would encourage you to say no._

Nick looks up at the shaman with wide, scared brown eyes.

 _We’ll call it off,_ Bae-in decides after a moment of staring back at Nick with shining golden eyes. _You’re in no state to accept it. I don’t know why Tim brought you here. It’s too early._ He gives Nick a kind smile, like that of the sun’s warmth on him in a particularly comfy napping spot, and Nick sighs a breath of relief through his tremors.

With a wave of his hand, Bae-in flicks the light-switch while remaining in place on the floor with Tim and Nick. “Tim, the bonding is over,” he says aloud. One by one, the crystals settle down onto the floor beside him. Bae-in extinguishes the candles, and his eyes’ glow grows dimmer and dimmer with each dead flame.

Bewildered, Tim blinks as the lights in the office slowly come on again. His hands naturally gravitate toward rubbing Nick’s back, soothing him - only then does Nick realise how his fur stands on end and his heart races, and Tim’s hands stutter, then pet him more, smoothly and gently. “What happened? Is he okay?” Tim asks frantically, trying to calm Nick down as he begins to breathe heavily and harshly.

Oh, this is new. Ohhh, this is new. He’s having a panic attack in his cat-body. Surely Tim will find him out anyway, now. Surely Tim will cast him aside, he’s just a stupid cat who won’t even be Tim’s familiar. Maybe he should just leave forever. He’s been thinking it for a while, so maybe he should just leave. That would probably be for the best, wouldn’t it? He’s been trying to ease Tim into his absence during the day and his runaway trips at night, but maybe it would be better to just call it over.

“Rejection of the bond leading to panic,” Bae-in says, sounding both clinical and worried. “There’s some last shadow in him refusing to accept the bond, and now he’s scaring himself over it.” He grabs a stethoscope with nimble hands while Petter moves the catmint away so its scent can’t drive Shadow wild the way it might affect another cat. “Has anything like this happened before?”

“No, never,” Tim says, holding Shadow tightly in a hug to restrain him for Bae-in and also comfort him and give him a feeling of safety in small places and Tim’s arms. “Will he be okay?” he asks as Bae-in presses the cold metal disc of the stethoscope against Nick’s chest.

With the reassurance of Tim’s arms around him, Nick calms ever so slightly. His paws, which he only now realises had been clawing at thin air, become still and peaceful. He still heaves for breath and frantically swivels his head around, but Tim gently holds all of him in place, and Nick returns to normal, bit by bit. “He’ll be fine,” Bae-in says, giving both Nick and Tim a kind smile.

Relieved, Tim sighs. Nick does, too, at the feeling of panic leaving his body. He’s lucky this one was as short as it was.

“Did-” Tim takes a deep, shaky breath. “The bond didn’t work, did it?”

“No,” Bae-in says with a sad look. “I’m sorry, Tim. You’ll have to give him more time, maybe another few months.”

Nick can only watch for a few moments as Tim’s face seems to sour, his lips slightly pouting and his teeth biting down on them. Then, he looks away, with at least a semblance of shame for the harm he’s caused. “How can I make sure he stays with me for that long?” Tim asks, to Bae-in but also to himself and to Nick.

Well, if that doesn’t make Nick feel like shit.

“You can’t keep him tied down, Tim. You have to trust him the same way he trusts you.”

Tim takes a deep breath and nods.

On the way back, Tim holds him gently. It almost breaks Nick’s heart, that Tim still cares for the little cat in his arms so much, even though he knows that, at least right now, Shadow doesn’t want to be close to him the way Tim wants to be close to Shadow. Snuggling close and resting his head comfortingly against Tim’s shoulder is the least Nick can do right now.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be my familiar,” Tim says quietly, still carrying Shadow home. “I’m a weak witch anyway, I don’t need a familiar to help me with my magic. The stuff I do isn’t hard. You can just be my pet,” he chirps with a fake-sounding cheerfulness. Nick meows and nuzzles against Tim’s chest - just to help him feel better, of course. “We’ll just be person and pet,” Tim says. “I don’t mind.”

But he does. Nick knows he does.

Tim wants a cat because he wants a familiar, a partner, a companion and a friend. Is it wrong for Nick to stay, when he knows he can’t fulfill those desires?

Yes.

Of course.

Nick never should have stayed in the first place. It was an indulgence, a wish, a dream to have a home as both cat and human, a hope that never really comes true, and worst of all Nick hurt someone else with his own selfish desires.

Well, better late than never.

He will leave in three days’ time.

One. 

It’s weird to know what will happen when no one else suspects a thing. Nick acts like there’s nothing wrong at all. As far as Tim can tell, Shadow eats well, he sleeps well, he even trails Tim around the garden in the same way he used to before he started leaving during the day. Tim holds out a few flowers and herbs over the course of the day for Nick to smell, and Nick repays him with warm cat-snuggles to show Tim that he is loved, even though the familiar-bond failed.

Even though Shadow will be gone in just two days.

That night, Nick makes a few preparations. His cat-bed under the bridge looks more like a windswept mound of dirty hay rather than the typically-clean grassy heap it truly is, so he gathers up extra grasses and ties them into a mass that is comfortable enough for a cat to sleep on. He might need a bit more cash to feed himself, now that he can’t rely on Tim for meals, but it should be fine. Alfonso and Jesper live in the city outskirts, in a quaint house with bushes that are frequently in need of trimming, so Nick can just keep doing that for the meagre money it affords him and he can eat purely in his cat form for a while. The abundance of summer should let him fill his belly easily. Hopefully, at least. Eventually, when winter comes, the coffee meetups with Tim will have to stop because the expense, though slight, would be better-spent on good fire-fuel or food, but for now Nick will be fine.

Two. 

Uneventful, mostly. Nick visits Tim as a person and pretends everything is okay; Tim sees through it. They talk for a little bit about mental health, nothing in-depth or specific, just things like being depressed in secondary school or anxious in uni. Somehow they end up on the topic of most comforting things. Nick confesses that he’s always loved apple cinnamon tea - not that he’s had any in years, but he loved it as a kid, when everything seemed okay. Obviously, Nick doesn’t tell Tim the depressing part or the part related to his homelessness. With a smile, Tim promises to make him some apple-cinnamon tea blend in fall, when apples are most plentiful and he can simply set aside some of the skins to dry for tea. Nick returns the smile with a lump in his throat.

Night is much the same - he leaves earlier, before Tim is quite asleep, to try and get used to being cold and alone at night. Surprise, surprise, he hates it and ends up returning to Tim. It will be his last full night home- not home. In the house he used to call home, but which is not his home any more, because his home is under the bridge and not with the dear boy he desperately wants to stay with. It will be Nick’s last full night in that house, with Tim’s warmth under him and beside him and wrapped all around him with snuggly blankets and bony arms whose jabs don’t even hurt because of the love they bring with them. Nick should make the most of it.

Apparently, Tim hadn’t yet fallen asleep. When Nick slinks back in, Tim is still awake, scribbling something in his notebooks about magic, and Nick eagerly curls up in Tim’s lap, then on Tim’s chest when he finally lies down.

It’s so, so comfortable. Compared to the grass-bed under the bridge, this is heaven. Compared to anything else, this is heaven, perfection, love in its sweetest form.

If it weren’t for the fact that staying would hurt Tim, Nick would stay forever.

Three.

Late at night, when everyone has gone to sleep, Nick sneaks out again.

This time, it’s for good.

He prowls the house for a few minutes, just trying to memorise the scents, the sweet times he’s had, the feeling of Tim’s thighs making the perfect seat for his little cat body while Tim braided straw or the tenderness with which Tim always stroked his ears. Nick knows he won’t remember it all, but he can try. He can try, and he will.

The trip through Tim’s room and the little private living room upstairs and the kitchen takes the most time. If he and Tim don’t work out as human friends and maybe more, Nick might never see these places again, and the memories here are some of the sweetest. The garden, too, holds so much weight in Nick’s mind. His heart aches to leave it.

Distracted, Nick stands there, on the edge of the thickest part of the garden, looking around and taking everything in until he sneezes. A soft ruff comes from behind him, and Nick watches in terror as the dog standing there morphs into Oskar.

“Shadow, what are you doing?”

He barely manages a squeak in response.

“Are you leaving?” Oskar asks, crouching down in the garden with Nick.

Nick mews a tiny, sniffly mew.

Oskar just hums. “Well,” he sighs, “I think you know by now that you’ll break Tim’s heart if you go.”

Gods, Nick wants to cry.

“But you’re still leaving,” Oskar says with a slight, almost disbelieving shake of his head. “So you must have a reason.”

Nick just meows.

“Stay safe out there, Shadow. Let Tim know if you’re alive when winter comes, okay? You’ll always have a place here.”

If Nick could cry as a cat, he would be bawling his eyes out. As it is, though, he can only sadly meow and let Oskar pet him one last time.

Then, he disappears into the crack in the fence and runs. As soon as he’s far enough away from the garden he used to call home, Nick finds one of those little gaps in a building’s exterior, in a gutter or a pocket of air between two houses, and he dives in. The one he picks just so happens to open up into an area large enough for Nick to shift and sit as a human, snug and warm in the gap.

At last, he lets it all out.

\---

They say criminals always revisit the scene of their crimes. Nick is only guilty of breaking Tim’s heart with his disappearance - the second loss of a beloved cat in Tim’s life in as many months, Nick realises with a twisting feeling in his heart - and he returns just the same the next day. Today isn’t one of the days Nick would normally stop by, but he feels some sort of compulsion. Tim hasn’t texted him yet, possibly too caught up in worry over his cat, though Nick does feel a sudden buzz in his pocket as he strolls through the city to Tim’s home.

_From: Tim :^]_

_are you busy today?_

_soryr if im being pushy_

_just_

_its a lot_

_but no worries if you’re busy, we can talk tomorrow :^]_

It has to be about Shadow’s absence. Oskar must have told him. He _must_ have.

_To: Tim :^]_

_i’ve got time!_

_be there this afternoon, normal time?_

Tim answers him with an agreement. Lucky Nick, he at least still has a way to be there for Tim even if all he’s done is deceive. He should be grateful Varus has granted him this freedom in his love. After all, he’s done nothing good enough to receive such mercy and grace.

“Hey,” Nick chirps as cheerfully as he can. His iced americano has been ordered already, with a splash of caramel syrup today. He needs a little sweetness right now, anyway.

“Hi,” Tim says quietly. The smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whoa, what’s up? You look so sad.” With a frown, Nick gently nudges Tim’s foot under the table with his own - it’s become a kind of comfort for them both over their past few meetups, whether it’s a light, teasing tap or a reassuring pressure.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s my cat. Shadow. The one you were going to meet,” Tim says. His voice chokes up. Nick’s face falls. Tim’s eyes are red, his cheeks scratched and the hems of his long sleeves are damp. There’s no other explanation than crying.

“Oh no” Nick breathes softly. “What happened?”

“He ran away,” says Tim, and his expression wrenches into sadness.

“Would it be easier for you to talk about this somewhere else?” Nick suggests, his americano all but forgotten the same way Tim’s fruity, bubbly drink sits untouched on the table. “We can go in the garden or the park or walk around the city, if you’d prefer.”

“Um- garden, please. If you don’t mind.” Tim’s shoulders shake. “There’s a porch swing we can sit on.”

“Sounds good to me,” Nick says, quietly but with firm support, letting Tim lead him to the swing as though he doesn’t know where it is or how wonderfully warm the wood gets in the afternoon sunlight. Tim moves the big potted flower bush on the swing down onto the ground to make room for two humans to sit, and he brushes aside a few climbing ivy vines that never would have bothered Tim and Shadow, but will get in the way of Tim and Nick. They sit. Tim sighs. “So… he’s… just gone?” Nick asks carefully.

“Oskar says Shadow ran away and he saw it.” As he speaks, Tim’s shoulders shake again. Nick watches in heartbreak as Tim takes a shuddering breath and crosses his arms around himself for comfort.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Tim. Do you want a hug right now?” he asks, his voice as cautious and caring as the soft breeze that ruffles their hair.

“Yeah…” Tim sniffles. 

So Nick hugs him, tightly, with so much love. He has to fight the urge to nuzzle his face into Tim’s neck the way he would if he were still Shadow, so instead he rubs Tim’s back and just holds Tim for a little while. It’s only a few seconds, but by the look on Tim’s face, it’s done more than enough to help. Sniffling and smiling, Tim lets go of Nick and Nick lets go of Tim. A spare strand of ivy leans down and brushes against Tim’s fluffy hair. He tucks it back up into the upper beam of the free-standing porch swing, then settles back down next to Nick. Maybe he feels better now? But, “I hope he didn’t leave because I didn’t take care of him well enough,” Tim adds, letting his regrets spill off his lips. As if it were ever Tim’s fault in the first place - it’s all Nick, all his stupidity and deception and lies.

“I’m sure you took care of him well. It’s probably way better than he was used to. You seem like a really good cat caretaker.” Nick gives Tim a gentle smile, a pat on the hand. “Sometimes, well, strays are just strays,” he continues, trying not to make his explanation too personal, “they have to leave. No matter what you do, sometimes they just have to leave and they can’t stay.” Quickly, he sneaks a glance at Tim - and Tim is looking right back, with pretty grey eyes like the water running clear over the rocks in the river. “It’s not your fault,” Nick says. “It might be hard to believe, but it’s not your fault.”

“I mean, it feels like it is,” Tim murmurs, finally breaking eye contact and looking down at the earth beneath their seats with those storm-grey eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to have him be my familiar,” Tim muses, “maybe I should have waited for Lunasa or something. It’s easier to do familiar-bonds at Lunasa.”

“Or maybe he really loved you,” Nick says - he can’t resist it, he just has to - “but he just couldn’t be your familiar for some reason.” Tim affixes Nick with a sceptical look. “Some cats can’t be familiars,” Nick explains, “they’re not capable of doing magic or they refuse because they need to care for their colonies or they need to be strays. It can be a life calling for some cats.”

“Yeah…” Tim sighs. “I guess so.”

Nick smiles at Tim and pats his back again.

“Thanks,” Tim says with a tiny smile. It’s not much, but Nick will happily take it over Tim being sad and almost broken-hearted.

“You’re welcome,” Nick says softly. “I’m just happy I could help you feel better.”

Tim chuckles with that same little smile, so sweet, so cute, and he swings his legs awkwardly. “Do you- um, do you have to go soon?” he asks.

“No, I can stay for a little while longer.”

“Is it okay if we just sit here some more?” His lips quirk up into a curious, hopeful frown.

And it’s not like Nick ever really had anything better to do than sit with Tim. “Yeah, of course,” he answers easily.

So they sit for a while, silent, but comfortable just being close. It’s a familiar closeness - obviously, since Nick has been around Tim for almost a month now, even if only in secret. Gently, Nick pushes his toes against the soft earth beneath the porch swing, rocking them back and forth, and he enjoys the sight of the colourful garden in front of him. Despite the hot summer weather, he enjoys the slight but obvious warmth of Tim at his side even more.

\---

Beautiful art of Luci and Gerrit, aka Phrenic, jungler for SK Prime!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst! hehe  
> don't worry, there will be more happy parts soon! in the meantime, what did you think of nick's decision?
> 
> also be on the lookout for a fun announcement in a few days!


	7. Coffee, Lemon Tea, Americano, Lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has to find a way to move on from the loss of Shadow - a way that is more permanent and helpful than taking in another stray to cover for the loss of Dracarys.
> 
> Perhaps it's time to adopt.
> 
> Oh, and to take Nick along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again! enjoy <3

It’s nice to sit with Nick.

They don’t do much for the hour they spend outside, watching as the sun slowly starts to descend from its peak in the sky, but it’s nice to just sit with someone for a while, especially when that person is as kind and patient and sweethearted and understanding as Nick is. He doesn’t try to fill the silence. He doesn’t promise Tim everything will be okay. He doesn’t tell Tim to just get another pet.

He lets Tim sit in the silence, rocking them gently on the porch swing, and they chill.

After a long while of just waiting together as the sun dips low enough to brush the tops of buildings on the other side of the fence, Nick checks his phone for the time. “I should probably go soon,” he murmurs.

Tim and the wind both sigh quietly. “Okay,” Tim says. He smiles. “Thanks for sitting with me,” he adds with another shy look towards Nick, who grins back and pats his hand gently.

“If you need me, I’m here for you,” Nick answers.

Quietly, almost to himself, Tim giggles. “Thanks. You’re going now?”

“Mhm,” Nick hums and stands. “Gotta go home and get dinner.” He stretches, arching his back in the late-afternoon sunlight, and Tim gets up to stand alongside him.

He nods understandingly. “See you later?” Tim asks, even though at this point it’s barely a question - Nick comes by every other day for a coffee or two, and to chat with Tim and to try to meet Shadow.

“See you later,” Nick answers just as definitively as always. “Maybe tomorrow? I have some time,” he adds with a smile that makes Tim’s heart beat faster as though Varus’s magic has pierced him through the heart.

“Oh! Of course,” Tim says, hoping he’s not blushing at all, “that would be cool.”

“Okay!” he chirps, grinning, “I’ll be here.” Mortified, Tim thinks he hears his rosebush coo at them with the support of a cheer from the marigolds and snapdragons.

“See you tomorrow,” Tim says, smiling back. They look at each other with fond gazes for a few long seconds, seconds that Tim wishes could last just a bit longer.

Just before Nick leaves, he hugs Tim once more. “Text me if you feel sad, okay?” he says, “Or just- you know, whenever you want.”

“I will,” Tim says, holding onto Nick. They have to let go after a few seconds, but it makes Tim’s heart warm to have Nick so close, even just for a little while in the July heat.

And with that, Nick takes his leave, probably doing the same little giggly smile he always does as he leaves the shop, according to what the ground ivy and blackhaw tell Tim.

Tim’s phone buzzes a few minutes later.

_ From: nick ^-^ _

_ ^^ _

To: nick ^-^

:^]

The cherry tree teases him for smiling so hard at his phone.

Between days of talking to Nick, Tim sends texts and pictures of his day as he goes about it, from a snapshot of his garden in the early morning light to a story of how ruthlessly Mihael had teased him for looking so smitten. In secret, Tim is carefully flirting, bit by bit, trying to build up his relationship with Nick. They could just be friends, of course, but Tim feels a deeper connection with Nick, one that doesn’t make sense based on only their meetups and must be something more magical than just words and chatter. Whatever it is, it’s worth a shot, as long as Nick will let him keep inching closer. Nick generally reciprocates, too - like that hug he had given Tim, and the random little smileys throughout the day that brighten Tim’s hours.

Still, texts are nothing in comparison to speaking in person, and, now that Dracarys is gone and Shadow is gone, Tim spends most of his day alone.

The plants talk to him, but they’re plants, and don’t understand people-worries and people-interests and people-connections in the same way. To them, the world has no conflict, no sadness, no loss. They die frequently, but are never afraid of it, for they know Zyra will welcome them with open arms into her jungle in the Spirit Realm. They have only her. But people have an entire pantheon of gods, a host of worries, a horrifying element to loss that only people seem to fret over. Besides that, they know nothing but Tim’s garden. Most of them know only this year’s plants, the annuals, while at least the perennials that return year after year are naturally accepting of the loss of their friends and the replanting and regrowth that always happens. To them, only change has permanence. The garden waxes and wanes, but no matter what, they always are around friends. They are never alone.

Rosemary tries, but does not really understand. The white bryony tries hard, too, to show Tim compassion in his sadness that confuses it. But not even the lemon tree knows what it’s like to be like Tim, surrounded by people and yet alone at the same time.

After his morning taking care of them, Tim can’t stand it any more. He loves his garden dearly, but he would rather be alone than listen to them be carefree right now. Anyway, there’s work to do, as always. This time it’s a tiny little bit of preparation for Lunasa, already. It’s still in about a week, but the town is revving up for the festivities, and if Tim wants to dry flower petals for Jus and Oskar’s re-bonding ceremony the way he always does as a gift to them, he needs to start now. Plus, there’s bread to be baked today - not for Lunasa, just for the shop, but a duty nonetheless.

Maybe kneading bread will help him soothe his mental tumult. Worth a try, at least.

Embarrassingly, he’s just a smidge too short to easily knead dough on the kitchen counters. They’re more for Jus’s height, since he’s the kitchen witch, which means the countertops are just a few centimetres tall for Tim. Of course, he could knead on the countertops anyway, but his arms would be more sore than normal, so Tim just scatters some flour over their four-person dinner table and gets to work. Because he can see most people in the shop from where he’s standing and they can see him, it’s a little awkward, but it’s fine. As long as he keeps his head down and his hands busy, he can pretend they aren’t there.

But then he glances around as he carefully sweeps his hair back from his face and he sees someone sitting at his and Nick’s table- ah. At the table at the back of the shop. Tim doesn’t know when he started thinking of it as a special spot for him and Nick. The person sitting there reminds him of Nick, almost, at least until he notices the flame-orange hair and pointed elf ears.

Tim can’t entirely tell, because the person isn’t facing him, but it’s probably Emil, on a lemon-tea break from his university studies. He’s one of the rare customers who continues to order hot drinks in summer despite the heat, maybe because of his fiery fae ancestry as seen in his hair and ears. 

For a moment, Tim thinks about letting the bread proof already and going over to sit with Emil and chat a little - they’ve spoken a few times at festivals where they both felt so out of place that their introversion drew them together. Catching up with an acquaintance wouldn’t seem out of place, and would be quite nice, considering Tim’s state of mind at the moment.

But just as Tim arranges the dough in loaves and covers them with a cloth to proof, Emil has company.

A short, cute, red-headed girl with cool grey eyes sits down across from him with a smile and a blush almost as red as their hair colours.

Tim sighs.

At least he can be happy for them. The girl looks like an ice elemental witch, and a nervous one at that - the glass of iced coffee in her hand frosts up around her fingertips with magic she’s too excited to control. Next to Emil, whose fiery hair is almost glowing with the magic of his fire fae blood, she seems like the perfect complement. An ice witch and a fire fae.

Sounds like a romance novel in the making.

And here Tim sits alone with nothing to do but grind coffee and finish baking bread.

It’s lonely without anyone to talk to. Obviously, it’s not like Jus or Oskar have ever left, but they’ve always had a different sort of air to their relationship. Something unique. Something mystical. Something special. Something Tim could never have. In a sense, Tim has always lived in the shadow of Jus and one of his familiars, as a friend to both of them but never able to be so close to them as they were to each other. At least it was bearable when Tim had Dracarys to keep him company or Shadow to pet and play with and who followed him everywhere.

He doesn’t really have anyone, any more.

Another cat might be able to fix that. Not a stray - like Nick said, some strays need to stay wild, and Tim doesn’t want to risk his heart again. But maybe a cat from Bae-in’s shelter, one whose home is gone and who wouldn’t mind staying within the borders of the house and the garden and who likes Tim enough to sit with him, even when they’re not playing with a toy.

So he goes, once more, to Bae-in.

The walk is peaceful, and the trees and hedges and grasses give him their condolences along the way, and Petter gives him a smile when he enters the small reception lobby. “Hi Tim! How’s the allergy medicine working?” he asks cheerily, “helping, hopefully?”

Awkwardly, Tim clears his throat and tries to ignore how the houseplants adorning the reception desk and the corners of the room fall uncomfortably silent. “He, uh,” Tim stammers, “Shadow ran away.”

Petter’s face falls. “Oh.”

Sheepishly, Tim chuckles without mirth. 

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Petter murmurs. “Two in one month… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s- thank you,” Tim says, doing his best to not get choked up as his arms naturally wrap him up in his own reassuring warmth. He’s not here to be sad or to talk about it right now, anyway; it’s not quite as painful as losing Dracarys but losing Shadow is still something he just can’t process right now. “I, um. I was wondering if I could adopt a cat.”

Petter looks at him, unsure for a moment.

“Thought it would be easier to have a cat more used to living indoors,” Tim explains meekly. “And I can give them a good home.”

Slowly, Petter nods. “We have a cat who came to us after losing her witch,” he suggests. “Might make a good fit with you. Of course, there are plenty of other cats who would love a new home if you and she don’t click.”

“That sounds good,” Tim says. “I’ll meet her, if she wants.”

“She’s with Bae-in right now - he’s feeding the cats,” Petter says, leading Tim to a side room where Bae-in stands in the midst of several different bowls of food and cats clamoring for each one. As Tim and Petter watch, Bae-in smoothly levitates each food bowl, one by one, murmuring spells to move the bowls, and each cat follows its bowl into its own home-cage.

“Hi Tim!” Bae-in cheers, not even having to look up to notice Tim’s presence.

“Hi,” Tim says quietly.

“I’m sorry about Shadow,” he says, and for a moment Tim is shocked. How could Bae-in possibly already know? Ah, but he and Petter probably talked about it. They’re a witch-familiar pair, so it would make sense for Petter to warn Bae-in in the method of communication most comfortable to them. “Are you doing okay?” Bae-in asks, looking up from feeding the cats and scooping dog food into bowls.

“I’m okay,” Tim lies, “Thank you. Um- Petter said there was a cat who had lost her witch?”

Bae-in nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” he hums. “Are you sure you’re ready to have another cat? Emotionally, I mean. I can’t imagine the turbulence is easy for you.”

“It’s not, but I think it would be better with someone to share it.”

“Okay, I can introduce you. “Here she is,” Bae-in says. “Kit, this is Tim. He lost his familiar about a month ago.”

“Hi,” Tim murmurs, sitting with the cat. “So- you’re Kit? Nice to meet you.”

“Ah,” Bae-in says plainly, “Her real name isn’t Kit, she’s… she’s given up her old name, the one from her previous witch. Petter and I just call her kitten. You and she can come up with a name if you want.”

Well, that’s unusual. It makes sense to Tim, though - when your life is defined by someone else keeping you alive, giving you everything you are, and then you lose that person, you have to find some way to learn to define yourself. Even if it’s by name alone. “Thank you,” Tim says to Bae-in, and he leaves them somewhat alone in the animals’ playroom, littered with toys and cat-trees and bones. “So,” Tim begins, turning to the young cat, “my name is Tim, um, and I’m a garden witch.”

She blinks at him calmly and settles onto her paws in a little cat-loaf, peering up at him with patient brown eyes - not wide and cheerful and loving as Shadow’s were, but instead patient, quiet eyes. Her coat is a pretty calico, splotched with patches of brown and black on white, and she meows quietly.

He chuckles and holds out his hand for her to sniff, but he doesn’t really know what else to say.

The silence comes to life again, then, or at least what silence remains between the sounds of other cats playing together and a few plants rustling in a corner, and Tim and the new cat just kind of stare at each other, unsure of what to do next. After a few minutes, she stands up with a sigh, and Tim’s blood runs cold with the fear that he’s messed up his relationship with yet another cat. Wasn’t he once great with animals? Didn’t they once flock to his gentle touch and quiet voice and kind hands? Seems like he just doesn’t have that same magic to him any more. Wouldn’t be the first time magic failed him.

But instead of walking away as Tim had feared, the cat creeps closer, sits down again, and rests her head on Tim’s knee.

He cautiously scratches behind her ears and she sighs happily, relaxing into the touch. Tim can’t help but smile. Having a cat’s fur under his fingertips is a familiar, reassuring feeling to him, and it’s so nice to be able to have this new cat to help soothe him in the same way Tim can soothe her as she grieves for her lost witch, if she needs to.

Time flies with her acting as a soothing balm on his heartache. Tim gives her pets and plays with her a little, but she’s a more quiet, almost regal cat than he’s used to. She would rather have her fur gently stroked than play with a toy. Still, Tim can get used to that, if he has some time, and she seems more than patient enough to give him a chance.

As part of Bae-in and Petter’s traditional adopting process, they won’t let him take her home on the first day of meeting her; Bae-in always chats with his animals before letting them go to their new homes to make sure they feel comfortable with their potential new owners. Each and every animal is precious to Bae-in, and, even if Petter is well-known to dislike how some of them pounce on his wings or his owl form, he always wears a little smile around the ones he and Bae-in care for.

That night, Petter calls him while he’s in the midst of making a little lavender tea to help him sleep without the familiar presence of a cat in his room.

“She likes you a lot,” Petter says. His happiness for them is audible. “You can take her home tomorrow. And she said she’d like a name from you,” he adds, and so Tim begins to brainstorm.

The visit he plans to make is in the afternoon, just like the day before; Tim needs to make the most of the morning’s cool temperatures for his outside work, leaving the majority of his errands and visits for the afternoon. Of course, Nick will be visiting the shop this afternoon as well, but he’s been staying later and later, even up to the dinner rush most days. Maybe he would even go with Tim. The least Tim can do is ask. It would be nice to introduce the new cat to Nick.

He’s thought of some names, too, to let the cat decide between. It must be some sort of symbolic thing, where her old name is too tied to her old witch and she wants to start anew. Tim gets that. A fresh start is what he’s looking for with this new, pretty calico, too.

“You want to go now?” Nick asks when Tim suggests he come along to the adoption.

“Mmh,” Tim hums, a non-answer. “Petter said to come by in about half an hour. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he’s sure to add, “I just thought- since you like cats, there’s lots there.”

Nick bobs his head back and forth in that way he does, always, when he’s thinking over something Tim has told him, whether it’s a new use of magic or a deity he hasn’t heard of yet or something as simple as a drink suggestion. Then, “yeah, that sounds fun,” Nick agrees with a smile. “Besides, it’s important to you. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

In his chest, Tim’s heart gives a weak susurrance of blooming happiness and love again, and only then does Tim realise he’s wearing the rose pendant again, giving himself a glamour of confidence and strength despite his weary sadness. He can’t help but giggle fondly at Nick’s sappiness. “We’ll go once drinks are gone,” Tim says then.

“Sounds good to me,” Nick says, grinning wider.

They smile and chat over their drinks - an iced americano as per usual for Nick and a lemonade for Tim - until it’s time that they should leave, when Tim sets their cups in the cafe’s washing tray and leads Nick through the city streets to Bae-in’s clinic. Walking with Nick feels oddly comfortable, like walking with an old friend even though they’ve only known each other for about a month, by now. Of course, the texts they share almost constantly now probably help build that sense of familiarity. In any case, the walk is pleasant, and talking with Nick is even more so.

Upon arriving at the clinic, Petter shakes hands with Nick. “Good to see Tim is putting himself back out there,” Petter says, and Tim almost can’t tell if he’s being serious or joking. “He seems like a crazy cat witch but I promise he’s a good person regardless,” Petter adds.

Tim had better cut him off before he says something even more embarrassing to Nick. “Hey,” Tim interrupts, “Petter, I’m here to adopt the kit?”

Petter just smiles and gestures toward the door to the cats’ playroom with one long, wide, brown-grey wing.

“Hi,” Tim says once he finds his cat resting in a sunny spot and dozing lightly. “Uh, Petter said you were ready to come home with me?” 

“Mrr!” she cheers. If cats could smile, she would be doing so right now, Tim just knows it. She meows at him, sitting on her haunches almost like she’s paying careful attention to Tim. 

“So. Um, for the name - does Soves sound good?” he asks cautiously. It’s a name in the same vein as Dracarys, from the spells heroes used in the stories his mother used to tell him. Dracarys was Tim’s favourite, and the burst of fire it brought in the tale perfectly matched the spirited, strong-willed cat who was far more adept at magic than Tim ever was.

Soves, an ancient spell for graceful flight, seemed to fit the patient, watchful calico cat. She must be able to sense it, too, in the faint magic left of the dead language. With a meow, the cat nods.

“Soves,” Tim says softly.

“Mrrew,” Soves answers, gingerly stepping closer to Tim, close enough to rest her head on his thigh and purr softly.

Giggles pour from his lips like song, and he rubs her head gently, stroking the soft white fur with its brown and black patches. Nick chuckles quietly at them, a sound that only half travels past his lips and half hums from his throat.

“She seems very nice,” Nick says as Soves stares at him, her eyes open, clear, observant.

“She is,” Tim says in return. “Ready to go home?” he asks her patiently, just as patiently as she watches him.

She meows and scoots closer to him. Respecting her less-touchy nature, Tim gives her another head-rub before standing up, and she trots along at his heels as the three of them go to Petter’s desk to sign adoption papers and pay her fees. He and Nick wait patiently as each item is processed and Soves’s magical signature, the one used to identify her if she ever were to be lost, is updated with Tim’s contact details and her new name.

Then, Petter sends her off with a chin-scratch and a nose-bump, and Bae-in cranes his head through the door to wave goodbye to her as well. She mewls at them, seemingly grateful. As the same time, Soves trails so closely to Tim’s heels that she’s nearly pushing him forward, excited to see her new home and new family and new friends.

Once there, though, her mood seems to almost sour. The number of people present in the shop right now probably also isn’t great for letting her get used to the house and its varying degrees of business, so Tim leads her upstairs. The second floor is more their real home anyway, with its little living room and the bedrooms nearby and the attic just a few ladder-steps above. Soves likes that more. She immediately takes a liking to the sofa, as Tim and Nick watch with fondness in their eyes.

Nick leans against him lightly as they watch Soves explore the second floor, and Tim very lightly leans back, letting their shoulders press together.

Soves paws at the cat-bed in Tim’s room. Maybe he should buy a new one - the old one is contaminated with Shadow and Dracarys’s scents, and might be confusing to Soves, especially when there aren’t any other cats in the household right now. Soves seems okay with it, at least, but she deserves something better than the admittedly rather worn-down cat-bed anyway.

Having had her fill of exploring Tim’s room, Soves returns to them. She doesn’t quite seem to act the same, though, and Tim wonders what’s wrong now. Likely just a change of litter or a scoop of food will do the trick and erase the fickle expression from her face. 

She pads up to them, and both Nick and Tim crouch down to greet her and pet her.

But as Nick reaches out to pet Soves slowly, gently, with a kind of patience most cats would be grateful for, she hisses.

Tim grabs Nick’s hand and pushes it back. “Soves, he’s nice, I promise,” he says as Nick looks at him with surprise written in his wide brown eyes. “I think she was going to scratch you,” Tim explains quietly to him.

Soves hisses at Nick again and slinks closer to Tim, hiding behind his thigh.

“I guess she’ll take a bit more time to warm up,” Nick says with an unaffected chuckle. “That’s okay, we have time.”

“We do,” Tim answers with a smile and a rub over Soves’s shoulders, doing his best to soothe her raised hackles. Gently, Nick pats his hand, sending a rush of fuzzy feelings coursing through Tim’s veins. He lets go of Nick’s wrist and does his best to suppress his horrid blush. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” Nick says sweetly. “I didn’t mind it.”

“We should let her explore the garden a bit. Want to sit outside again?”

“Sounds good.”

It’s already late in the day, so Nick has to leave soon.

But it’s nice while it lasts.

A cat, a companion, and a warm summer day.

It’s very nice.

Once Nick leaves, Soves settles back down into her typical quiet nature, hopping up on the swing next to him and tilting her chin up at him. To Tim’s credit, he can take a hint. He gives her a few scratches on the chin, and she gratefully rests her front paws on Tim’s leg with a happy expression. Once Oskar and Jus close the shop, Tim takes her inside, where she finds a warm spot of sunlight on the floor and lies down in it while Tim helps clean up and reheat some frozen soup. They eat while she eats, sniffing curiously at the bowl. Of course, it isn’t the same as with Shadow, and Tim finds himself awkwardly patting his lap more than once, expecting Shadow to hop up at any moment, but Soves instead curls up on a spare chair and watches them with that same patient gaze. She’s a good cat. It’s nice to already be building a new routine with her, as Tim gives her little head-pats between cleaning up the kitchen and organising some dried herbs from their stems into tidy jars.

After that is taken care of, Tim doesn’t really have any work left for the day. Yes, he could start grinding eggshells for fertilising his garden, but that can be done tomorrow just as easily. Taking an extra hour off tonight isn’t a problem. He can even use it for getting a bit more comfortable with Soves and writing about the bread he had made in his book of spells. Since he’ll be relaxing tonight, might as well make a drink to go with it - a recipe for hot chocolate practically jumps off the pages of his book at him and Tim smiles, then hurries to make a mug full of the sweet richness so he can snuggle up in bed with his book of spells, his favourite warm drink and the new cat in his life.

He used to always sit with Dracarys like this. First Dracarys, then Shadow. Tim always sat like this, gazing at the sun as it sank in the sky and Leona slept, then at the moon, if it was visible, shining bright with all Diana’s strength. That reminds him - he’s been meaning to work a little healing magic for himself. It’s a new beginning, after all. Soves knows it, too; she didn’t shed her old name only to have a witch who can’t move on from the past and so Tim gently nudges her head off his knee and sets his hot chocolate on his desk. There should be a pearl in his closet, and the rose pendant Laure gave him, and a spare sachet, and he can take a few flowers from the jasmine plant on his windowsill and a dried rosebud or two from the pantry for his spell tonight.

Carefully, he sets up his work. The clutter scatters to the sides of his desk. A well-used candle takes residence in the middle, with the pearl, the pendant and each individual bloom around it in a ring, at a safe distance to prevent any fire, of course. Tim makes sure the curtains are open to harness the magic in Diana’s moonlight and Senna’s night.

_ “Polnjea,” _ Tim says, using the magic of his native language to suffuse the scattered elements with the healing grace of the moon overhead and the comfort of home. Though his eyes are mostly shut to channel all Tim’s strength and focus into charging the pearl and flowers, his lashes flutter, and he can see his magic flow and shimmer and shine in the moonlight. Diana has always smiled upon him. It would seem she continues to do so - his work is swiftly done, and each petal of the rosebuds and jasmine has a faint sheen of lunar magic on it. The pearl seems to even glow from within in the dim star-and-candlelight.

Tim smiles, satisfied, and leaves the now-magical items out on his desktop for the night, to soak up as much moonlight and starlight as they can. Soves meows approvingly and curls up to Tim as he finishes his hot chocolate; she leaps off his bed and into her own cat-bed once he lies down to sleep.

He still does not have Shadow or Dracarys back, and there is still an ache in his heart, but something in Tim feels more at ease, and he can already feel the ache softening into the tender love of a caretaker for Soves.

As per usual, Tim rises with the sun the next day. He cannot see Leona’s shining shield in the sky from his westward-facing window, but her warm light floods through the gaps between buildings in the city and brushes against a select few leaves in Tim’s garden, and Tim bids Diana farewell for the day with one last flower from his eldest jasmine plant, delicately placed on his windowsill.

Smiling, Tim turns back to his bed, only intending to set it to vague rights before hurrying downstairs. But then he sees Soves. She sits amidst the mussed sheets, lapping at a paw and smoothly running it over her face to freshen up for the day, and Tim smiles wider.

It makes him miss Shadow, a bit - he can tell it’s not the yellow tabby following him around because Soves doesn’t follow him around at all so much as she sits near windows and watches everything that passes by - but with the sachet on a string around his neck, Tim finds that he feels much better. His magic came through, with help from Diana and Zyra, of course.

And at the end of another day of work, when he braids straw and sips a hot chocolate and scribbles in his book of spells about the sachet he had made, Tim realises the truth.

It isn’t the same as it was with Shadow. It isn’t the same as it was with Dracarys.

But it is good.

He rubs Soves’s shoulders as she lays her head on his knee again, and Tim smiles.

This is good.

\---

Lovely art! This week we have the wonderful Larssen and one of Hanna's own OCs, Femke, the ice witch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit by bit the plot is moving forward 👀  
> i hope you liked this chapter! the next one will be a bit different than what is here so far so it should be exciting too!


	8. Latte, Coffee, Lots of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jus's encouragement, Tim takes another step towards Nick.
> 
> But the result is confusing to everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the very late upload ;-; was rather busy last week T-T  
> enjoy the new pov!

It is, unsurprisingly, the hand on his shoulder that wakes him up instead of his actual alarm clock. “Babe,” Oskar hums quietly in the soft dawn light, “gotta get up.”

Jus grumbles sleepily and sits up, but at least he gets a kiss for his efforts.

“Come on, Tim made coffee already - I can smell it,” Oskar says as enticingly as possible, with a sweetness in his tone and a little giggle that Jus can’t resist.

With a sigh, Jus gets up and goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day while Oskar tidies up their bed, then takes his turn in the shower. _Thanks for the wake-up, honey,_ Jus says through their mental connection.

Oskar replies with a nonverbal sort of nod, and Jus giggles, then rushes down the stairs towards the sweet smell of fresh coffee in the morning. Gods, Jus loves coffee. Where would he be without his cafe, or without the help of caffeine in his days? Nowhere near as happy as he is today, that’s for sure.

Tim automatically hands him a cup of coffee with a bit of cream and sugar, just the way Jus likes it right after he wakes up, and Jus thanks him with a sleepy hum. The coffee in his mug dwindles as the prep for their morning runs on, into Oskar joining them and Tim rushing off to the market with Jus’s shopping-list of herbs for Lunasa. It’s a good morning routine, especially as a warm-up to their often-hectic days behind the cafe counter, and Jus and Oskar move seamlessly around each other as per usual. Having someone as your familiar for nearly five years, now, tends to do that. 

It’s like being able to speak without words, or send messages without even moving a finger. Emotions, thoughts, magic, love - it all flows easily between them as soon as either opens their mind to the connection, and every second spent with Oskar gives Jus so much energy to keep going. 

He can’t imagine what it’s like to lose that. Even when he and Oskar are apart, Jus can still feel his presence. Even when they’re fighting, which rarely ever really happens any more, Jus can feel the love Oskar has for him still holding on just as strongly as he did when they first forged that bond. Even when Oskar is away from the city and deep in the forest, searching for potion ingredients Tim can’t grow, Jus can still feel Oskar’s spirit in the distance, calling to him, soothing him, crooning soft lullabies to help him sleep without Oskar’s warmth in his bed.

In a way, Jus understands Tim’s grief, but at the same time, he can’t even begin. Tim lost his dearest pet, his most helpful coworker and his closest friend all at once, and Jus could only watch his devastation. Both Jus and Oskar made sure to ease up on Tim and let him know it would be okay if he went home for a few days, but unsurprisingly he stayed with them. His garden has always been his greatest comfort, in the same way Jus’s kitchen is his favourite place to be - aside from lying in bed with Oskar, that is.

Luckily for everyone involved, Shadow came along when he did, and Nick soon after, so Tim wasn’t alone for long. Admittedly, if Nick hadn’t stopped by and Tim hadn’t spoken to him with a little encouragement, Jus and Oskar were plotting to call Tim’s brother, just so the grief wouldn’t overwhelm Tim alone. But thankfully, Shadow and Nick showed up like, well - like magic, and no interference was necessary.

Honestly, Tim and Nick are just adorable together. They have the most adorable habits of sipping from their drinks while gazing at each other, and, ever since Shadow left, Nick comes by the shop so much more often. As a result, he and Tim just keep getting closer. Admittedly, it makes Jus worry a bit, that they’ve become so close in a rather short amount of time when it normally takes Tim quite a while to warm up to anyone, but it’s not like Jus can say anything. He fell in love with Oskar in the span of a week or so, anyway. As long as Tim is happy and not hurt, then Jus is more than happy to let him be.

As long as Tim is happy.

And he certainly seems to be, from everything Jus can see and hear and everything Oskar tells him. Soves is good for Tim, too, and, though she doesn’t behave like Dracarys who made herself useful around the house casting protection spells or Shadow who trailed Tim like his namesake, Soves carves out her own routine, basking in patches of out-of-the-way sunlight and watching over the shop. She’s a bit shy, but after a few days of letting her watch him and Oskar as they work, she eventually lets them pet her.

If Jus is being honest, Soves kind of reminds him of Tim - just as shy and cautious as Tim had been when Jus first met him. Nick does seem to be drawing him out of his silence a bit, which is good to see. Tim needs more friends. He only ever seems to talk to Jus, Oskar, Mihael and a few other customers on rare occasion, like Mads and Rasmus and Marek.

Maybe Jus is just a bit too concerned, though. After all, Tim has been busy. Grieving isn’t easy.

It’s better with someone else, but Jus understands Tim’s reluctance to really go into anything with Oskar, and, to a lesser extent, Jus. Dracarys was more than a source of company and friendship for Tim; she was quite literally a source of strength, able to manipulate magic even more skilfully and powerfully than Tim. And now she’s gone. It leaves Tim weak, the way he had been before Dracarys, or, well, weaker than Jus and Oskar and most of the people they grew up alongside, anyway, and Jus wouldn’t be surprised if some of those old worries and fears from their school-days have resurfaced despite how Tim is no longer the only average witch in an environment of hyper-powerful witches-in-training.

At least Tim has Nick now. Sometimes Jus and Oskar wonder how close they are, as they watch the other two talk so happily, whether they’re in the shop on a rainy day or sitting outside and watching over the garden. _Boyfriends yet?_ Jus asks Oskar, though neither of them know the true answer.

 _Is now a good time?_ he asks Oskar cautiously one night. Though his words themselves might be vague, their connection accepts and transmits images and feelings and memories just as easily as coherent thought, and Oskar understands as always.

 _Tomorrow,_ Oskar answers with a grumbly tone. He unwinds his arms from around Jus and sits up to shift into his dog form. Grinning, Jus gives Oskar plenty of ear-scritches and hugs and cuddles after Oskar flops onto his chest and lays there with a wolfish grin, ears half-pricked towards Jus and with fur that is soft under his hands, filling Jus’s heart with warmth as he pets them.

Jus sends back a message impossible to translate into anything but feelings - happiness, warmth, the joy in his heart whenever he cuddles Oskar, a yes answering Oskar somewhere in the mix.

Then, it’s cuddles, and then, Oskar switches back into his human form, and then, lights out for both of them.

They stay up just a little bit longer to make out.

Now would, indeed, be a good time to revamp that encouragement he and Oskar had both given to Tim earlier, to give him courage to talk to Nick for the first time. Those two have been chatting for a while, and now they even sit in the garden for extra privacy and hug each other when Nick has to leave. Surely they’re romantically interested in each other?

When tomorrow comes, Jus and Oskar go about their morning as normal until breakfast - a quick bite of toast Tim had made when he woke up to water his plants. _You or me?_ Oskar asks, and Jus already knows what he means.

 _Me,_ he decides quickly. 

Oskar gives him a nod and a grin, so Jus takes a sip of coffee to wash out his mouth. 

“So, Tim, how’s Nick doing?” Jus asks, a wry smile painted on his face as he and Oskar giggle giddily through their mental connection and Tim’s eyes snap onto them.

“Good,” Tim answers, already giving then a thin-eyed glare. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you asked him out yet?” Oskar jumps in before Jus can maneuver the conversation more subtly. At first, Jus is almost of a mind to scowl. Oskar’s ears and tail, swishing excitedly in the cool morning air, stop him short.

“What- no!” Tim nearly shrieks. “Guysss,” he whines.

“All we’re saying is that if you offered to meet up for an actual dinner instead of hanging out here, Nick seems like he would say yes,” Jus adds more calmly than Oskar. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind of Nick saying no - he and Tim see each other every single day, now, and though Soves is still taking her sweet time in warming up to Nick, Tim has always seemed eager to get closer to his current favourite person in the world. It’s so adorable, Jus doesn’t even feel slighted.

“ _I’m_ saying you should ask him on a date before I set you two up,” Oskar teases.

Neither Tim nor Jus doubt he’s being entirely truthful.

Lightly, Tim sighs, wrapping his arms around himself and shifting his weight around awkwardly. “I don’t know,” Tim mumbles quietly, the most shy Jus has seen him be in a while, “are you sure…?”

Both Jus and Oskar firmly nod their heads.

“All right,” Tim murmurs, rolling his eyes. But he smiles as he says it, and Jus and his familiar know he’ll follow through.

Ah, isn’t this so exciting? Tim and Nick seem like a great pair - from what Jus sees in the spare snippets of time he has to observe anything but the business of his shop, Tim has already started to teach Nick about the lore he loves so dearly and the garden he cares for like a gaggle of children, and Nick learns quickly enough to actually help Tim in the garden rather than bumble around like Jus or Oskar might.

Jus is already eager to start seeing more of Nick around their shop as Tim’s boyfriend.

\---

The next sunrise brings them one day closer to Lunasa. It’s time to really start preparing, now, with potions for love and prosperity that Jus makes when he gets a chance and that Tim makes when Jus can’t leave the counter. 

Dinner that night is quick because Jus is rather tired, even though he can feel Oskar draining his exhaustion through their mental connection, sharing it between them and giving Jus some of Oskar’s own energy. Thanks to Oskar, Jus manages to stir-fry some vegetables and fish before collapsing into one of their kitchen chairs and nearly falling asleep while Oskar sets the table.

Jus manages to return to alertness in time for dinner. The sight of Tim with so much sadness written on his face and flowing through his aura shocks Jus the rest of the way into wakefulness.

“Tim? Are you okay?” he asks.

Tim mumbles something unintelligible as he sits.

“What was that?” Jus prods gently.

“He said no,” Tim says.

For a moment, Jus still doesn’t get it.

Oskar sends him an image of Nick with a melancholic expression. 

“Oh,” Jus says meekly. “I’m sorry, Tim. It’s okay, there’s always more fish in the sea-”

“He said no, but he also said he likes me.”

Jus just stares at Tim blankly, as does Oskar, who is so confused and surprised and half-sleepy from Jus that his ears and tail have popped out.

“So… what’s that supposed to mean?” Oskar asks, the same question Jus would have asked had he spit it out sooner. “Nick just wants to be friends? Wouldn’t have thought it, he’s always flirty with you, isn’t he?” As he munches, Oskar makes his confused face, the adorable one that Jus always giggles at.

“I mean- yeah, I guess,” says Tim with a slight smile and a blush, both of which only Jus and Oskar and maybe Nick would be able to spot. “Well- he said he likes me, but he can’t be too serious until his life gets more stable. Mental health issues.”

“Ah,” Jus answers simply. “That’s good that he wants to give you the best of himself.”

Tim hums in agreement through a forkful of snap peas.

“Is he going to keep stopping by?” Jus asks in the quiet of their half-house, half-shop after business hours.

At that, Tim nods firmly, and Soves chirps from the corner with her food bowl.

Jus isn’t sure if it’s a happy meow or a near-hiss.

There are more important things at the moment than Soves’s shyness, though. Lunasa is still drawing terribly near, only a few days away, and so Jus needs to prepare drinks for his drink stand at the festival, which means preparing plenty of flavouring syrups and buying extra sparkling water and brewing extra coffee the night before, to ice and sell. Tim has already bought the herbs for infusing their berry drinks and he’s picked the flowers to decorate the little bread rolls. At night, Jus makes bread with Tim’s help, kneading it and chattering on about the day while Oskar does his best to boil down syrups without splashing any on himself. He says the burn marks still tingle when Jus touches his arm, sometimes. Jus keeps an eye on him and the kitchen tools, too, with a little bit of his magic always connected to the pot lid just in case the syrup splatters. 

Tim is obviously a little bit down, still, but Jus thinks it’s more that he’s nervous. After all, he basically confessed to his dearest friend outside their little shop, and for all Tim knows, Nick could just cut off contact without thinking twice. Each time his phone hums in his pocket, Tim is quick to check the notification. “Still on talking terms?” Jus asks gently after the first five or so messages, each ending in a wider and wider smile from Tim.

“Yeah,” Tim says with a soft sigh, “yeah. He sent me a picture of some strays near his house,” Tim adds, and before Jus even knows it, Tim has launched into a long story about the stray cats, babbling on with a grin while shaping the dough into little bread rolls and decorating each one with a sprinkling of dried crushed rose petals and lemon zest and poppy seeds. His hands move almost as fast as his mouth does. Jus can’t help but crack a smile.

Working together with his best friends is one of Jus’s favourite things. It’s just a nice feeling. Kitchens have always felt like home to him, both because of his natural affinity for cooking magic and the wide range of magical ingredients his mother kept in her kitchen. He doesn’t have all too many memories of it - being a naturally strong witch, he’s spent most of his life in boarding schools to hone and tame his magic - but what he does remember is warm and comforting and full of energy, spurring him to learn new recipes and tweak the old. Cooking with Tim and Oskar is even more fun and relaxing. Jus only really gets to enjoy it when cooking for holidays, because otherwise it’s for work and on a time schedule.

With a grin, Jus settles into a rhythm of punching and turning the bread dough in his hands, listening to Tim talk in run-on sentences as Soves watches them curiously from her perch in the windowsill, her eyes clouding with slight confusion as Tim rambles on into Slovenian and Jus follows him easily. Time flies fastest when in good company with good conversation, after all, and Jus has both in surplus.

\---

With Lunasa fast approaching, Tim spends more and more time in his garden each day, and Jus makes sure to buy him an extra UV-ray-blocking shirt. He still sunburns much too easily. It brings a smile to Jus’s face, sometimes, when he has to slather aloe vera gel over Tim’s sunburned hands and neck and the tips of his ears and nose - some things never do change, and Jus has been helping Tim with sunburns ever since they were little kids in school together. Right now, though, Jus is more worried about the workload. It’s a busy time for Tim, what with the harvest and all. Maybe Jus should send Oskar to help, just to be a second set of hands for Tim, even if those hands aren’t skilled at all.

He suggests it to Oskar through their mental connection.

 _I think he’s fine,_ Oskar answers, and for a moment, Jus is rather cross. It’s not like they’re doing terribly much inside, at least for the moment. But, _he already has help,_ Oskar adds as Jus turns around to give that beautiful face a glare, and then Jus sees it.

 _Oh. Nick is out there,_ he tells Oskar.

 _I know,_ Oskar answers with a wry little smirk that makes a snuggly warmth well up in Jus’s heart and overflow with a giggle. Ah, he’s still so in love.

As for Nick and Tim, they seem to be having fun together, going through the garden and harvesting the ripe berries and fruits and snipping off some herbs. Jus is just about to take a glass of water to each of them, but then Mads stops by the shop as per usual on his run, distracting Jus. Today there isn’t a fox vastaya alongside Mads. That’s unusual. His cloven faun hooves clop lightly on the shop’s wooden floors as he walks up to the counter with eyes that stare off into space, and Jus frowns. “Everything okay, Mads?” he asks as he takes the goat vastaya’s order and starts making a latte. “Where’s Lucas?” Usually Mads and his kitsune friend always go running together and get a bit of coffee on their way back, to enjoy alongside conversation about uni and their other roommates.

“I, uh,” Mads says with a grimace, “I think I upset him.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jus asks as he hands Mads his latte.

“Only if you have time.”

“I always have time to help a friend,” Jus says with a smile, already brushing his hands off on his apron and following Mads to a table. _I’ll be busy for a bit,_ he adds to Oskar, and Oskar sends him off with a little playful nudge.

It turns out to be a atypical feud with a stereotypical base - girl troubles. According to Mads, Lucas has been studying with a classmate, “and she’s really pretty and always talking with him… I don’t know. It just-” Mads sighs, looking horribly embarrassed. “I think I got jealous.”

“You think?” Jus teases good-naturedly. “Did you mention that to him?”

“No,” Mads admits, “I just kind of walked off…”

“Well,” Jus begins, “step one is apologising,” and he coaches Mads through a simple way to make amends for wrongdoing, one he learned through his own constant trial and error. Before Oskar was his familiar, they were fiery friends and competitors in the uni classes they shared, so Jus has had plenty of experience with accidentally irking his boyfriend. As for Mads, though he is young and still in uni, he seems to understand Jus’s lessons about restraint and humility as well.

Once they’re done, he smiles. “Thanks for the help,” Mads says.

“You’re always welcome,” Jus answers with a grin. “How’s uni going?” They’re both home witches, after all - Jus specialises in cooking and food magic, while Mads, who is studying to be a hearth witch if Jus remembers correctly, is more broadly focused on combining both Tim’s green magic and Jus’s kitchen magic. Thanks to their shared interests, Mads and Jus talk for a little while longer as their drinks dwindle.

“They seem really happy, huh?” Mads notes in a gap in conversation, breaking Jus’s concentration.

Following Mads’s gesturing nod, Jus looks out of the shop’s back window and sees Nick and Tim standing in the garden, chattering amiably, with bright smiles on their faces. Nick is even wearing a straw hat made in Tim’s distinct, handmade style. How sweet! “They do,” Jus says with a proud smile.

“It’s almost unreal. The blonde guy only started coming around a few weeks ago, right?”

Now that Jus thinks about it, that’s right. It seems like Nick has been around even longer than that, but maybe that’s just the level of familiarity Nick has with Tim. “Right,” Jus answers.

“Good for them,” says Mads with a sweet smile. “Tim seems much happier now than last month.”

“He does,” Jus says in return. 

Jus sits with Mads for a little while longer, until their coffees run out and Mads looks greatly reassured. He thanks Jus just before he leaves, and Jus wishes him well with Lucas. Uni life is never easy, especially not with the added stress of worrying over one’s boyfriend, but a bit of advice always helps, and so Jus is more than happy to have given a bit of aid.

_Good?_ Oskar asks Jus mentally as Jus smoothly reintroduces himself to the rhythm of their behind-the-counter work.

 _Good,_ Jus answers just as easily.

“Coffee for Martin, no cream, no sugar, and a berry fizz to go for Martin,” Oskar calls out for the last customer he had helped before Jus returned. Jus smoothly sends the cups into Martin’s waiting hands with a bit of magic, letting the wind warlock take hold of them with his own magic.

“Thanks,” Martin says with a smile. From where it sits proudly on Martin’s shoulder, Tempest, Martin’s familiar, hoots appreciatively, fluffing up one pale wing. Jus smiles at it, and the barn owl’s face follows him even as Martin leaves the shop.

 _Not that busy right now,_ Oskar comments idly as he rinses and cleans some of their glasses. One by one, the cups and mugs line up on the drying rack along the side of the sink, arranged by a simple spell that shuffles them around in a slow mid-air waltz while Jus busies himself with checking over their computer register about the stats for the day so far.

A while goes by with only a handful of customers besides Marek’s crowd of high-schoolers without anywhere else to be but at Jus’s shop. Admittedly, it’s getting a little bit boring, but the pre-dinner rush will hit in a few minutes, so it’s not like Jus can start doing anything else at the moment. _Want a drink?_ Jus sends with a shrug. 

_Lemonade,_ Oskar answers. Jus adds a little tally mark to their weekly sticky note on the wall next to their register next to his name and Oskar’s name, to note down that they had bought drinks, and he pours Oskar’s just the way he likes it, with plenty of ice cubes and an extra sprig of mint. _No caffeine, by the way,_ Oskar adds with a pointed glare at Jus while he sips his lemonade.

So what if Jus is well-known for sometimes drinking coffee way too late in the day and having poor sleep on occasion because of it? At least now he has a cafe to run, which gives him the perfect excuse to drink coffee whenever he likes. Still, with a sigh, Jus sets down the coffeepot and reaches for some flower-infused tea instead.

 _Thank you, sweetheart,_ Oskar hums with a sweet smile. If they weren’t in public and needing to remain at least somewhat professional, Jus would kiss that grin right off his face.

As it stands, he just leans into Oskar’s side and handles new customers as they arrive, some with their favourite order, others trying something new, still others Jus has never seen before. Whether it’s the regular customers or brand-new faces, Jus loves to make drinks for them, and so his magic flourishes even when the shop is busy.

Once the business day is over, Jus takes inventory again, checking up on how many potions they have left and whether they need more coffee or milk or sparkling water, or whether he should make another cake before Lunasa. Seems like they need more strawberry syrup. As Jus pokes his head out of the door into the garden to tell Tim to pick more berries tomorrow, his voice gets caught in his throat with surprise. 

Nick is still here, helping Tim, even though the sun is setting.

As Nick carefully nests each potion one by one in the basket to charge them full of Diana’s magic in the overnight moonlight, he sneezes. The noise pricks up Oskar’s dog-ears. 

When Nick sneezes again, Oskar glances at him, confusion written in his brow and seeping through his bond to Jus. “Are you allergic to dogs?” he asks casually. The sharp, calculating look in his eyes gives him away to Jus, though, and instantly Jus knows something is up.

“Not all of them,” Nick answers, blowing his nose in a napkin, “I guess some of them, though.”

“Oh. Sorry about that,” Oskar murmurs, withdrawing his ears. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t worry about it too much, it’s just sneezing,” says Nick with a slight, shy smile, “but thank you anyway.”

“No problem,” Oskar says. He holds the door for Nick on his way out - the basket isn’t exactly easy to balance with one hand, and Nick seems grateful for the help, though he has to leave as soon as he sets the basket down by Tim anyway and Tim sends him off with a hug.

And to think Tim was worried Nick would hate him. Jus rolls his eyes at how tightly they squeeze each other, and how their hands linger on each other for just a few moments until they both look away and blush red in the faint light of the setting sun.

Jus watches Nick leave with a combination of intrigue and worry, mostly over Oskar’s expression. Jus’s beloved is bright and cheery as Nick passes him, but as soon as Nick is out of the shop, Oskar’s face turns coldly analytical again, and Jus doesn’t need to feel Oskar’s emotions to be concerned.

He doesn’t mention it until Oskar mentions it - that’s how most of their serious discussions work, so as to respect boundaries even in a relationship where any thought can be shared between them. Still, it weighs on his mind. Why is Oskar so suspicious? Should they discourage Tim from continuing to see Nick? It’s not like they can force him to stop, but if it’s dangerous… Tim has always been reasonable, and Jus has always shown his best interests at heart. Maybe Jus is just worrying too much for his friend who has always been the baby of the group. Nick seems like a good person, and Oskar hasn’t had any bad feelings about him until today.

Dinner is a bit late and very simple due to the extra work they have to put in so they’ll be ready for Lunasa tomorrow. It’s another quick throw-together dinner with whatever’s in the fridge. Jus chops up some meat while Oskar slices up vegetables fresh from Tim’s garden and the gentle, comforting familiarity of cooking with his longtime boyfriend soothes the stress of the day into a mellow sweetness. _Love you,_ Jus says to Oskar, simply because sometimes it can just be said.

 _Love you too, honey,_ Oskar answers with a dopey grin that Jus presses his lips to. _There’s something I want to talk to you about, by the way,_ Oskar adds as he tosses the vegetables, his thoughts echoing through Jus’s mind, welcomed with a loving warmth despite the words’ worrying nature.

 _Yes? What is it?_ Jus asks curiously.

_It’s about Nick._

_What about him?_

_Something seems off._

_Okay. We’ll talk._

_I know it sounds weird, I just-_

_I trust you. We can talk about it,_ Jus responds confidently.

In any case, if it’s enough to set off Oskar’s natural protective instincts, it’s worth investigating.

\---

Isn't Mads's smile so pretty? And here's Jus, as well, in some new celebration clothes for Lunasa!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i won't be uploading a chapter this coming weekend. the last few chapters have been rather rushed and, while they're still decent, i want to improve that quality as well as the quality of the next chapter  
> (also been having some sleeping troubles, so staying up late and writing fic until i fall asleep isn't going to happen this week - hopefully that will fix some things!)  
> let me know what you thought of this chapter and the mindsharing jus and oskar have!


	9. Strawberry Lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soves may hate him, but Nick finds himself even closer to Tim as the days go on. They even celebrate a festival together - it makes Nick's heart swell with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!  
> enjoy~

_So you’re the cat that left Tim,_ Soves says to him with a bitter glare.

Nick can’t respond without making a fool of himself, so he merely glances at her as he picks some blueberries and strawberries for Tim.

 _You’re not fooling anyone. I know your scent,_ she grumbles with a tiny but building growl that makes Nick’s blood start to rush in preparation for a fight.

He’s had his share of streetfights with other cats who tried to steal his kill or hurt his friends, but never as a human.

 _How dare you stick around,_ Soves hisses. _How dare you._

Sinking in his chest, Nick’s heart aches even more.

“Nick, is she hissing at you?” Tim asks from across the garden, breaking Nick out of his sad stupor.

“I don’t know,” he calls back between picking more berries like he can’t hear her, like he doesn’t know how much she hates him for what he did to Tim, even though he’s been sticking around, trying to soothe that pain.

Soves just glares at him with fury in her green eyes.

“Did you try to pet her again?” Setting down his basket, Tim wanders over to them, taking light footsteps between the myriad plants in his garden and somehow managing to not step on even a single leaf besides the lush carpet of grass.

“No,” Nick says. “Maybe she just doesn’t like me.”

“Aww, Soves,” Tim says with an amused half-smile, “Nick is nice, he won’t bother you. Here, I’ll get your cushion so you can sit on the swing,” Tim adds, already on his way back into the house.

Soves follows him with a grumble, and, just before she hops over the threshold, she turns back to hiss at Nick once more.

He deserves it, doesn’t he? She’s not wrong. He’s awful. All the things he’s done to Tim, and how he ran away without any explanation, and how he dares to keep getting closer to Tim… He’s awful, and her anger at him would be appreciated by whatever deities of justice there are. Kayle, maybe? That’s one of the ones Tim taught him, right?

Nick doesn’t entirely remember. Maybe that’s why the goddess shows him no mercy in her punishment of him with worsening insomnia, anxiety over Tim, and the familiar tendrils of depression tugging at his heart, reminding him of what a horrible trickster he is.

He sighs. At least he should try to be happy for now, even if he isn’t. There’s a festival coming up, according to Tim - Lunasa, celebrated with a town-wide series of games, stories and other attractions - and Nick and Tim need to decorate the shop and bake bread for ceremonies and set up a stand with pre-made drinks so Jus can have a day off with Oskar.

By the end of the day, Nick honestly feels pretty awful. Soves’s guilt-tripping is certainly working on him. Regardless, Tim hugs him good-bye when he has to leave for “dinner,” and Nick hugs him back with a smile and a warmth in his heart that stays even as Nick hunts in his cat-form for hours, searching for fish or mice or rabbits.

The fields are sparse. Most of the prey-animals are still hiding because of how light it is outside, still, and normally Nick wouldn’t hunt now, but he told Tim he could be there to help run the shop early in the morning, so if he wants to eat as well as get the extra sleep his cat-side needs, he doesn’t have another choice. Finally, Nick spots an unsuspecting rabbit munching some grass.

He pounces. It shrieks. It squirms away before he can deliver the killing bite, and he sighs. Maybe he could chase it, but he had managed to wound it, and the scent of its blood is bound to attract something else, which could easily be bigger and more dangerous than Nick. Best to leave it to die elsewhere.

Besides, he tells himself as he stalks home, whiskers twitching with annoyance, he’s gone to sleep hungry before. Even if he hasn’t had to in a while, he knows how to deal with it. He can just hunt more after the festival tomorrow; surely at least a few small animals will flock to the plaza to eat up any food the celebrating people have dropped, and the hunt will be much easier then.

So Nick curls up in his little nest of grass, mashing it with his paws to soften prickly points, trying his hardest to not miss the perpetually-full stomach and comfy, squishy, warm cat-bed he used to have.

\---

As soon as he wakes, his stomach howls at him, but Nick has more time-sensitive things to do than hunt. There’s a new button-up shirt in his little storage nook under the bridge, and Nick is certainly not going to let it get all dirty before Lunasa, so he slinks into the hidden waterfall and washes himself off with a scrap of soap. In the end, he thinks he looks quite nice. The shirt had cost enough that he won’t be getting anything to eat when he visits Tim for a few days, but he’ll be fine as long as he stays in his cat-form when not around the shop, and his jeans are acceptably clean. He’s lucky the scuffed, worn style is in fashion - the holes in his jeans won’t be unusual.

Once the sun fully rises, Nick sets off for the plaza where he and Tim will meet to set up the stand. When he gets there, though, Tim has already even put up the awning and is leaning against the tabletop, watching others set up various areas Nick has no clue about.

“Sorry- am I late?” Nick asks quietly, rushing to Tim’s side. Wearing his normal apron and hat with a cute, flowery shirt, Tim looks so sweet that Nick almost averts his eyes, as if Tim is too nice-looking to associate with him.

But Tim just chuckles in that adorable way he does. “No, you’re fine,” he chirps, just like the birds out and about in the morning sunlight, “I woke up early today.”

Softly, Nick giggles. “Early-bird,” he teases. “Is there anything else we need to set up?”

“Nope,” Tim says. “Oh, but I do have something for you!”

Nick watches with mild confusion as Tim roots around between coolers of drinks and a stack of paper cups. Pulling out a hat, Tim holds it out to Nick, who can do nothing but stare for a moment. With another giggle, Tim swiftly sets the straw, wide-brimmed, flower-decorated, pointed hat atop Nick’s head.

“I made you a hat! The measurements might not be exactly right, but it should be good for today,” Tim explains. “It’ll be sunny. Don’t want you to burn.”

He’s so considerate, really. Even with the awning up, and with a spare plain hat Nick knows Tim has because Tim has let him use it time after time, Tim made him one of his own. A smile springs to Nick’s face as Tim adjusts the hat and the flowers on it until they’re to his liking. “Thank you,” Nick says. His fingers brush the brim of the hat, almost reverently. The straw isn’t rough, and is delicate but strong. Kind of like Tim.

“You’re welcome,” Tim mumbles.

And today, Nick isn’t afraid to keep smiling at Tim. It’s only been a few days since Tim asked Nick on a date, a better date than them working in Tim’s garden together or sipping coffees and chatting, something more... more serious. Nick still can feel the high coursing through his veins at the thought of Tim actually liking him enough to be obviously more than friends.

The ache of turning him down also buzzes through him.

It had been hard.

But Nick doesn’t trust himself to not hurt Tim any more, not just yet.

So Tim, being the lovely angel of a witch that he is, had agreed to wait a few months, ostensibly for Nick’s mental health but mostly for his own safety - Nick isn’t selfish; he would rather prevent Tim from being hurt than get into a relationship for his own happiness. Still, with their feelings in the open, Nick can tell he and Tim aren’t the same. 

For one, they’re closer, and there’s much less wariness about space and appearances. Tim doesn’t hesitate to reach around Nick to grab a drink from the cooler, even if it means his arm brushes against Nick, and Nick in turn has no problem squeezing around Tim to get to different flavouring syrups for their first few customers. Each movement is somehow in sync with a responding shift. Of course, they’re nowhere near the smooth, rapid, instinctual dance Jus and Oskar fall into whenever they work together, and sometimes Tim accidentally bumps into him with a giggle or Nick nearly drops something he only manages to catch with his cat-like reflexes. But Nick can feel it. Like the allure that had drawn him near to Tim the first time he heard him, something leads him and guides him through his first stumbling steps of the witch-familiar waltz.

Being Tim’s familiar...

That’s a daydream for another time.

Quickly, Tim shows Nick the ropes of basic customer service, and then they have their first few customers, each one of them eager for a refreshing caffeine boost to start the day with.

“So what’s your favourite thing to do at Lunasa?” Nick asks in a moment of relative peace, when there isn’t a line of people waiting to buy cold drinks on this hot summer day. Admittedly, he hasn’t been to a celebration in years upon years. He barely remembers Midwinter, and even then, he only remembers it because Jesper always gives him a little baggie of gingerbread cookies and twice the pay. Those cookies are usually the only baked treat Nick gets all year.

Tim shrugs, nibbling at his lip in that cute way he does when he’s thinking hard. “When I was little, I liked the stories,” Tim says, “but now I think I like running this stand more. It’s fun. I like having something to do.”

With a grin, Nick nudges Tim’s side. “The company isn’t bad either, right?” he teases, and as his reward he gets a bright smile and a little giggle from Tim.

“Yes, the company is quite nice,” he agrees.

Nick answers with his own laugh.

Another customer drops by, and Tim and Nick quickly make a blueberry fizz for her. After, though, Tim turns to him again, and Nick turns to face him just the same. “What about you?”

“Huh?” says Nick back. A very intelligent answer.

“What’s your favourite thing at Lunasa?” Tim clarifies with a bright smile.

“Oh.” Suddenly shy, Nick fidgets with a spare napkin on their stall. “I, uh, don’t really remember much of Lunasa. Haven’t been to one in a while.”

Mouth agape, Tim just shakes his head at Nick. “I’ll ask Jus and Oskar to cover for us after dinner, if you want? Then I can show you around,” he says with a hopeful quirk in his lips.

Oh. That would- “That would be really nice,” Nick murmurs. “If you don’t mind.” As for Nick, he would always say yes to spending more time with Tim.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Tim giggles, “I suggested it! Lunasa goes pretty late in this part of town, so everything will still be open after dinner.”

“Sounds great,” Nick answers, already so excited to meander the plaza and see more of the decorations and festivities of Lunasa.

Time flies between Nick’s busy hands and Tim’s plentiful laughter bubbling up like spring water. Between serving customers in the somewhat cool morning air and chatting about the various stands they can see from where they are, the two of them find plenty of ways to keep themselves entertained - not like boredom would ever be a problem around each other when they’re still in the giddy first stages of a crush. If anything, Nick admits, he’s a bit too excited, still, and judging by how often Tim shakes his head to reset himself the way he always does when he’s on a tangent or caught in thought, Tim feels much the same way.

It’s nice. It’s also overwhelmingly cute, that they’re like this together, but most importantly, it’s nice. It’s just nice to have a close friend and maybe more, like this.

“Lunchtime,” Tim says quietly, once the other festival-goers have stopped by and bought drinks and the rush of them is over.

Oh. Nick forgot people eat three meals a day. Well, he’ll be fine without.

From within a little pocket inside one of their drink coolers, Tim pulls out two sandwiches. Honestly, they look really good, with meat and lettuce and home-grown tomatoes on what Nick knows is homemade bread. Respectfully, Nick averts his eyes. People don’t like being watched while they eat. He learned that as a young adult on the streets. Surprisingly, though, Tim doesn’t start eating just yet, and as he pulls the sturdiest of the plastic cooler boxes over, Tim sets one sandwich down on Nick’s side of the stall. “I made one for you, too,” Tim says as he sits.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Nick murmurs, “really, I’m fine.”

“Eat,” Tim says with a grin. “It’s actually past lunchtime.” He holds out a sandwich to Nick, who can no longer suppress the rumbling of his very empty stomach. “Besides, I brought it for you, and it’s not like anyone else is going to eat it.”

Softly, Nick sighs and takes the food. “Thanks,” he murmurs with a meek smile.

Tim’s elbow nudges his side as a vague you’re-welcome, and as they both sit and eat, their shoulders press against each other, and they relax into the light touch.

When Tim had first suggested Nick visit him for Lunasa, Nick had been worried about the workload and the stress of staying human for so long. As far as Nick’s days go, though, this one is pretty smooth, and the two of them even have enough time to watch some of the festivities from their little stand. He’s not used to the noisy cheers of the crowd, but at least his human ears are much less sensitive than his cat-ears. It’s manageable.

As competitors line up for the third race of the day, Tim points out a few people in the lineup he knows, and, with a loud pop of music magic, all the racers are off. A lion vastaya with powerful, sand-coloured legs starts at the head of the pack, running at a steady pace. The vastaya who had kicked off the race, a tall young man with multicoloured feathers sprouting from his shoulders and hips in a trailing cape and tail, cheers wildly as the lion keeps his place. Soon enough, though, a human woman who had trailed the pack shifts into a tiger, easily loping past the lion as he slows, not fast enough to compete with an ixtal. Just when Nick is sure the tiger will win, someone begins to breathlessly laugh, and a girl with the lower body of a slim-looking… deer? Gazelle? Whatever her vastayan heritage is, she’s incredibly fast, and Nick wonders how he missed her before as she sprints ahead of the rest.

At his side, Tim just chuckles. “That’s Lily,” he says as the girl stretches out her arm to ensure she takes first place crossing the finish line, “she’s a Lillia devotee. Always wins.” He shakes his head with a smile. In the distance, the girl accepts a crown of purple flowers, then walks over to where the tiger ixtal lays gasping for air on the grass and nudges her gently with a hoof, helping her to stand.

As cool as it is that everyone seems to know each other, it makes something ache in Nick’s heart. He’s never had a community like this. Probably never will. He doesn’t deserve it. But, “Lillia… the- the centaur goddess?” he says in response to Tim.

“Centaur goddess, and goddess of races and the meek.” Tim smiles, likely grateful that Nick has managed to remember anything of the myriad gods and goddesses in the world. Frankly, he doesn’t know how anyone gets to know them all, but Tim had told him most witches learn when they’re young and choose only a few to truly pray to.

Tim prays to Zyra, goddess of plants, and Soraka, on occasion, as most people do for health and good blessings.

He also prays to Yuumi, cat-goddess and goddess of pets.

She must really hate Tim, to have given him Nick in the form of Shadow.

But before Nick can think too much about the spite of the gods, he and Tim get their next customer, and Nick refocuses on his work.

Bit by bit, the shadows cast over them by the awning lengthen until the sun is noticeably low in the sky, and the bonfire at the centre of the plaza blazes bright in the dimming light. For a few brief moments, Nick notices his pangs of hunger resurfacing, but then Tim sweeps him up in talk about the story of Leona, Ivern, Fiddlesticks, and Lunasa. From what Nick understands, it’s the last and most important story of the day, and Tim is thrilled to take Nick to listen to it, though the thought of sitting and being told a story makes Nick feel curiously nostalgic and wistful. He can’t remember the last time he’s truly relaxed like this, for an entire, stress-free day instead of just an hour or three with Tim.

Soon enough, a few faint stars appear in the sky. Between serving customers in the dinner rush, Tim traces his hands over constellations, from the creation-dragon Aurelion to Soraka’s cloven hooves to Caitlyn and Jinx, immortalised in an orderly star system next to a chaotic supernova. Nick listens with rapt attention. How could he not? There has always been a part of him that missed those childhood stories of gods and goddesses. It would seem that both he and Tim could talk about these legends for hours, even though Nick barely knows a thing. Maybe because Nick barely knows a thing.

Jus’s approaching laughter is what brings them back to a more concrete reality than handing out drinks between stories of the stars.

He and Oskar hold hands as they draw nearer, probably heading for the stand, but Nick can’t tell. They’re too lost in each other’s eyes and smiles to really be paying attention to anything else, though somehow they manage to not run into anyone. “We’re back!” Jus cheers, “did you two eat dinner yet?”

Both Tim and Nick shake their heads, no.

“Well, let’s fix that,” Jus says, nudging Tim and Nick out of the stand to make two strawberrry lemonades for them. “Here- now go get something!” he says, swinging his hand in Oskar’s, who also giggles giddily, just as high on the festival atmosphere as the rest of them.

“Okay,” Tim answers with a cute, faked exasperation in his tone that sends both Jus and Nick into laughter, “come on, Nick, let’s go look around.”

As Tim picks up his lemonade, Nick takes his own. Dinner will be horribly awkward. Nick didn’t bring money for food - not like he has much of that just sitting around. At least he has a drink to sip on. Still smiling despite his impending doom, Nick lets Tim lead him around the plaza to where other food stalls are lined up in order, and Tim quickly singles out a place that advertises fresh fried fish.

“Fish and chips, please,” Tim says to the kindly-faced gentleman behind the counter. He pays for himself, then turns to Nick, in the moment of truth, and Nick sips his lemonade and steps aside next to Tim to let the customer behind them in line order. Nick savours the summery taste of the strawberry lemonade as best as he can, to mask the ache in his stomach and the anxious lump in his throat. “You’re not going to get anything?” Tim asks with a pinch in his eyebrows.

Nick shakes his head. Money really isn’t something he can take lightly. It’ll suck for now, but hopefully he’ll be rewarded with a belly full of fresh kill later. Hopefully.

“Oh. Did you forget your wallet?”

“Er- yeah,” Nick says, because that’s as good an excuse as anything, “forgot it.”

“I can buy something for you. Or we can share, it’s whatever, I don’t mind,” Tim says, but Nick is smart enough to know he doesn’t really mean it, even if he does look very sincere and genuine and had confessed his love to Nick just a day ago.

Still, when Tim picks up their food and sits with Nick at a picnic table and positions the little basket of fried fish and potatoes between them as they sit across from each other, Nick meekly accepts a broken-off bite of fish between gulps of bright, sour-sweet lemonade. And another. And another.

Tim chuckles as he eats his own portion of food. “Should I get another order of fish?” he asks, and Nick’s face immediately blushes red. He’s probably eating far too much. Annoying Tim would be the worst outcome, so Nick shoves his hunger aside.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eat so much. I’ll stop.”

“No- Nick, eat!” Tim protests with a smile. “Food is half the fun of Lunasa, anyway. I’ll just get the fish, so we don’t have too much to eat.”

“Tim-” But Tim is already at the counter again, ordering another serving of fried fish. “I’m sorry you have to cover for me,” Nick mumbles when Tim returns, holding the extra food.

“It’s fine, Nick. Honestly. I mean, I’m not rich or anything, but paying for dinner from a food stand isn’t a problem.”

“Okay,” Nick mumbles. He stares at the fried fish for a few seconds, then breaks off another piece of the tender flesh and eats it, chewing slowly to make sure his hunger stays under control even though it’s easily the most delicious thing he’s had to eat in a good few months.

And anyway, Tim smiles at him and munches chips happily, as though proud of himself for taking such good care of Nick. It’s the same smile Nick used to see while curled up in Tim’s lap after a tasty dinner or a long, lazy afternoon of watching clouds drift by from the comfort of the porch swing.

From their quick dinner, Tim leads Nick around the plaza. The racing track, once lined with chalk and ribbons, now is covered with flower petals and dancing couples, and thatches of sunflowers and wheat decorate every lamppost. Though the plaza is fairly dim, a growing bonfire at the centre of the festival shines bright enough to illuminate the walkways.

“Do you want to throw something in?” Tim asks, and Nick turns to him, confusion written on his face in the flickering light. “They have scraps of paper. You’ve never written your troubles on a piece of paper and then burned it?”

Nick shakes his head, no, and Tim, still leaning close to him, walks towards a man who looks like the one who had begun the race Nick saw earlier.

“Matt, can we have paper, please?” Tim asks quietly after waiting a few awkward moments for the bird vastaya to notice them.

“Oh, yeah, sure, let me just- where are they?” Matt mumbles, looking around while keeping one hand faced towards the fire, a gem on his wrist glittering with the firelight.

“Here you go,” says someone else, the lion vastaya who had almost won that race those hours ago.

“Thanks, Tanner,” Tim mumbles, accepting two scraps of paper and a pen. Tanner and Matt go back to talking to each other as though Tim was just a slight interruption in their flow.

Quickly, Tim gazes into the fire for a few seconds while Nick feels the heat rolling over his hands in waves as the cool night breezes shift around them; Tim writes something down and folds his paper in half, then hands the other piece of paper and pen to Nick. “What do I write?” Nick asks.

“Anything you want,” says Tim plainly. “Something you don’t want in your life any more. The fire will destroy it. It’s a good-luck ritual. I can tell you more about it later, if you’d like,” he adds.

Something Nick doesn’t want in his life any more… To be honest, there are a lot of things. Anxiety. Depression. His homelessness never really bothered him before, but now that he has a taste of home with Tim and Jus and Oskar, he finds himself wanting more. Hunger. Heartache.

Guilt.

There are a lot of better, more life-changing things Nick could wish away, but right now, with Tim at his side and Tim in his mind, Nick would settle for removing his guilt at leaving. His guilt over Shadow. His guilt for breaking Tim’s heart once as a cat, then nearly again as a person who said “later” to a date.

In slow, shaky strokes - he hasn’t had to write anything in ages - Nick forms the letters on the paper. It looks worse than a child’s handwriting, but Nick contains his disappointment to just a quiet sigh, and he folds it in half the same way Tim did and hands the pen back to the bird vastaya.

“Ready?” Matt asks as they step a bit closer to the fire, encased as it is in a healthy border of sand and a fence to prevent injury.

Both Nick and Tim nod.

“Go ahead, then,” says Matt, and both he and Tanner hold their hands to the fire as it laps and swirls and spirals. A flutter of red sparkles - magic? - drift between Matt’s hands and an errant flame that leans a bit closer, pushing it back gently. Still, the bonfire seems almost to lean towards them, a dog eager for a morsel of food.

Tim and Nick toss their papers into the fire, and Tim’s note is devoured in the blink of an eye, leaving only a lonely ember that soon also is eaten.

For a moment, Nick doesn’t think his own paper will go into the fire at all, that instead the rising heat and air will simply carry it into the sky rather than consume it and destroy it.

As Nick watches, though, a lick of flame leaps up like a cat after a low-flying bird, and it tears into the paper in much the same way.

And a rush of relief runs through him.

Tim keeps showing him around, navigating through the crowd of people with skill that speaks of years of practise avoiding others - something both Nick and Tim have in common. Maybe Nick should ask about it sometime. 

For now, he’s content to chat with Tim about the various decorations and events, from the games to handfasting to dancing to storytelling around what seems to be a much smaller bonfire, but is instead, as Nick can see as they draw closer, a gathering of tiny points of light illustrating the story. Tim’s hand on his sleeve tugs him along to sit and listen. 

The storyteller, a slim, ageless-looking woman with long, white hair that floats around her pointed ears and kind smile, waves her hands emphatically as she tells them of how Fiddlesticks once tried to end harvests forever, instead harvesting the souls of innocent farmers in the field. Pinpricks of light, manipulated by a rather short witch in star-decorated clothing, twist mid-air and deepen to red, showing the bloodshed. Then, though, with Leona and Diana’s appearance, the red lights fade away and return in bright yellows and whites and greens, full of the colours of the harvest and of Ivern, the new god made to fend off Fiddlesticks’ hunger.

As the lights explode in a shower of dust and shimmer, everyone listening to the story cheers. Nick only looks at Tim’s face for a moment, but the pure, joyful smile on his face says everything Nick needs to know.

Nick smiles, too.

Yawning, Tim stands up and helps Nick stand, then leads him back through the maze of tireless party-goers to where Jus and Oskar are putting away the last of their supplies for the day and separating the stand into compact parts and packages. “Do you have to go?” Tim asks, one hand rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

The sight melts Nick’s heart. “No, not yet,” he says, surely with a love-stricken smile. “I can help put some things away,” he adds, and so he does, carrying boxes back to King’s Crown. From there, he says his goodbyes to Jus and Oskar and begins to leave, knowing Tim is still outside with a box of his own.

“Um- Nick?” Tim asks, standing beneath the blackhaw tree, setting the stand’s folded awning down and balancing it against the tree’s pot.

“Yes?” Nick says in return. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” murmurs Tim.

Oh, poor Tim, Nick has hurt him again. “You didn’t,” Nick answers with the most apologetic smile he can wear. “I’m sorry I’m being confusing, I just- I don’t want to be a burden to you.” As his words become harder to confess, he has to strain to keep himself from mumbling in shame.

“You’re not a burden,” Tim says.

 _“Yet,”_ Nick stresses. “And I don’t want to be. Like I said, I... I have a lot of issues.”

Like that fully expresses it.

“I have a lot of issues,” Nick continues anyway, “and I know I won’t be able to solve them any time soon but I want to try and manage them better so I don’t hurt you in the process.”

“Okay,” Tim says simply, still staring at the ground. “Okay. You’ll tell me what they are, though, right?”

Nick gulps. “Yes,” he says, a little white lie, “I will.”

“Thank you.”

Tim looks up with the most sincere, whole-hearted smile Nick has seen from anyone in a very long time. Something catches in Nick’s throat. He smiles back.

In the way they always do, Tim hugs Nick before they separate, a quick but tight squeeze and a little hum from Tim, and Nick pats Tim’s back through it.

Then, he has to go, and he waves goodbye as he walks down the street.

\---

It’s weird.

Now that Tim has confessed to him, and Nick answered in kind yet with ultimate rejection, he had thought Jus and Oskar and Tim would all cast him aside.

Instead, they seem to constantly draw him closer. As though he were dating Tim anyway, despite his own shame for what he’s done to Tim, despite the way he broke Tim’s heart with Shadow’s disappearance. At least Soves still treats him the way he deserves, with utter disgust and disinterest. She doesn’t try to bite him or scratch him each time he returns to help Tim in the garden, but her spiteful gaze tracks him warily. Sometimes she still tries to talk to him. He ignores her as best as he can.

On the other hand, Jus and Oskar are somehow even more welcoming than before. A few days after Lunasa, after Nick kept spending almost the entire afternoon with Tim in his garden, either talking or harvesting or trimming hedges, Jus stops him on his way in.

“Nick, there’s an extra gardening apron on the kitchen counter for you,” he says as he skilfully pours a latte with both pitcher and cup floating mid-air. “Tim said you like sunflowers, so I embroidered a few on it,” Jus calls after Nick as he shyly steps into the kitchen and ties the apron around his waist. It has pockets aplenty, just like Tim’s apron, and the bright flowers match the ones on the hat Tim made for him, which Nick also puts on so the tips of his ears and the back of his neck don’t get sunburned.

He can’t help but smile. “Thank you,” he says quietly to them as he slinks out into the garden to work alongside Tim, who grins as soon as he notices the apron.

Nick has only been helping Tim with his work for a week or two by now, but already he can feel the dynamics changing. With each day that passes, it feels like he melds back into their routine, following Tim around the house and garden but this time helping with human hands. They work in sync, almost, though Nick isn’t quite so skilled at stepping through the garden as Tim is, and he still sometimes treads on a plant or its leaves while Tim effortlessly avoids all of them. But Nick is still very good at trimming herbs for potions and pruning the trees and hedges. Tim even offhandedly comments that he should stay until spring to help with the most critical pruning.

Staying until spring sounds like a daydream come true.

More time goes by beneath the warm summer sun and breezy nights. The blackberry bushes ripen, and Tim has to put out netting to keep birds from stealing all his crops. A few days go by without rain, so Nick takes bucketfuls of water to the trees and hedges while Tim carefully manipulates three watering cans at a time over plots of sunflowers and roses and lilies. Bit by bit, old flowers wither, and new ones bloom to take their place. Some plants stop flowering. Others start. Still others bear fruits and vegetables. 

And each day, after their shared work, Tim sends him off with a little gift. Whether it’s a cupful of extra berries or a spare bread roll or baked treat, it’s always delicious, and Nick finds himself eating much better food than he has in the past two or three years.

“There’s a full moon tonight,” Tim says one day as they set out potions to charge with the peak strength of night’s magic.

Nick listens eagerly as Tim recounts the history of Diana and her scythe, planting moonlight and reaping it once the harvest is best.

At the end of that day, Tim presents him with a little charm - a satchel. Nick hasn’t had one since he was a child. They’re made to ward away evil magic and show sentiment, and this one, as Tim explains, has blueberry leaves, a bit of holly and basil.

Blueberry leaves and holly, Nick remembers, are for protection.

He has to look up what basil is for. It’s only to be expected that he forget a few herbs between all the plants Tim has in his garden; Nick doesn’t know how Tim remembers all their many functions.

 _Basil,_ lists the dictionary of herbs on the bookshelf in the cafe, with a few coffee stains on the binding and the pages, _love and protection._

Love and protection… 

Nick finds his fingers stroking the soft fabric of the satchel quite often.

\---

Art of Nick and Tim! Shoutout to [@hannivanillie](twitter.com/hannivanillie) again for such wonderful art <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will be going camping for the next two weeks, but i've got the chapters going already so hopefully the schedule sticks ^-^  
> i hope you liked this festival! it's also known as lughnasadh - you can read more [here, on Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lughnasadh).  
> let me know what you thought!


	10. Latte, Blueberry-Lavender Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Side by side, Nick and Tim continue to work, though Soves still isn't appreciative. At least Nick can try to remedy that situation.  
> But Oskar's blue eyes grow cold with suspicion as the days draw on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the late chapter! >_<  
> it's here now at least...  
> enjoy!

_ Your scent makes me sick, _ Soves snarls.

Nick just sighs. This isn’t anything new, and he’s not feeling any better or worse by her words, as per usual. Her words just keep pelting him, like tiny pieces of hail against a skewed window. Furtively, he looks around- Tim is still fussing at the rosebush for trying to leech water from the irises, so maybe Nick can try a new approach with Soves. "Look," he whispers, reaching a slow hand towards her, "I can explain, okay? I can ex-  _ shit!" _

She bit him!

Now it's his turn to hiss and growl at her, telling her to let go. He still has the intimidation factor, after all. In his cat form, he would be about her size, and the scars he has would clearly mark him as a superior fighter, enough to scare her off; the power still communicates into his human form for speaking to felines. That, and his size advantage as a human.

Smugly, Soves drops his hand.  _ Who says I want an explanation from a heartbreaker? _ she snarls, and, well. Okay, that one hurts a bit more than the rest of the jabs she typically throws at him. At least the pain in his hand distracts the overthinking part of his mind from guilt-tripping him into a bottomless pit.

"Nick?" Tim asks from the other side of the garden, before Nick can respond to Soves, "are you okay? Did the blackberries scratch you?" Nick doesn't even have the time to say he's fine - Tim is already walking through the garden, bare feet easily finding a path that won't harm any plants, on his way to check on Nick.

Sheepishly, Nick smiles at him. "I'm okay," he says as he nurses his bitten hand.

Soves grumbles.

"Wha- she  _ bit _ you? Soves!" Tim yells, "that is  _ not _ okay!"

"Tim, it's fine," Nick says gently. His hand might be throbbing slightly from the pain, but Nick has had far worse. It's not really Soves's fault, either; she doesn't like Nick, so Nick should have known better than to try to pet her, especially not when she's already angry with him. "I tried to pet her, she got scared. It's not her fault."

Tim makes that thin-lipped expression he always does when he's worrying or displeased, and Nick smiles as reassuringly as possible. Slowly, Tim's pressed lips soften into a little sigh. "If you say so," he mumbles. "That's still not okay, Soves," Tim chides, giving her an unhappy look. He pats Nick’s shoulder gently, almost making Nick flinch on reflex before his injured body recognises he’s safe. "I'll go get some bandages. She's up to date on her vaccinations, so you won't get sick."

"Thank you, Tim," Nick says, rising to his feet from how he had been crouched down and giving Tim another kind smile, which Tim returns, though only with a little, halfhearted quirk of his lips.

He hurries off to grab Jus's first-aid kit.

In the meantime, Nick turns to Soves, whose ears are sufficiently flat to seem chastened by Tim's displeasure. "Look," Nick begins, fully expecting her to snub her nose at him,"it's not fair to try and make him understand me when I'm a cat and a human. It's too confusing. Being human is easier on him - I'll explain when we're ready, okay?" he promises quietly. "I'll explain it to him when he's ready to hear it."

Her furry brow is still furrowed, but at least Soves doesn't hiss at him when she speaks, now.  _ When you're ready, you mean, _ she snarls.

With one last harrumph, she stalks away.

It might not seem like much, but Nick breathes a sigh of relief anyway. She's not happy, but Soves doesn't seem so angry any more, either, and it'll have to be small victories, with her. At least she’s not actively making Nick’s life miserable any more. According to Tim, she's typically rather gruff, anyway, so indifference is the goal, here.

Hopefully she won't bite him again.

Thankfully, Tim comes back soon with antibiotic ointment and bandages - probably too many bandages, to be honest. "Thank you," Nick murmurs as Tim spreads a bit of the ointment on each of the four punctures. It stings a bit, but nothing Nick can't handle. He's self-repaired far worse and dealt with much more pain. He has the ribbons of raised and twisted flesh along his back to prove it.

"You're welcome," Tim mumbles back. His slender, skilful hands place a bandage over each set of tooth-marks and smoothe the tape along with a delicate, tender touch, and Nick can’t hold back a smile at the feeling. It's nice to be taken care of. He hasn't had someone else to tend to his wounds for years. But, "I'm sorry," Tim adds, "I'll talk to her about it. I know you scared her," he continues, cutting off Nick's attempt to exonerate Soves, "but that's still… she shouldn't be doing that." Softly, Tim sighs, still cradling Nick's injured hand in his own. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, Nick just stands there, silent, surprised. He's not unused to people caring for him - Jesper always asks him how he's doing and Alfonso seems to have a sixth sense for other people's hunger and will offer him a sandwich when needed - but it's not what he had expected, even though Nick cares for Tim more than anyone in the world right now and he knows Tim cares for him as well. "Tim," Nick says after a bit, "it's okay, alright? I really don't mind, I deserved it for bothering her when I know she doesn't like me." He chuffs quietly and keeps smiling at Tim as he looks up. "You already did a lot for me. Feels better already," he jokes with a little giggle. 

Tim sighs again, but this time a smile crests over his face, and Nick's smile widens. "Okay," Tim concedes, "but I'm still going to talk to her. I'm glad you feel better." 

"All thanks to you," Nick says with just enough flirtiness to make Tim blush.

With a cute giggle, Tim answers, "I do my best for you," and then it is Nick's turn to giggle and blush.

The rest of that day is mostly uneventful. Soves stays inside, avoiding both Nick and Tim, who will probably confront her at dinner or after, and so Nick gets to harvest herbs and pick seed pods for drying without any interruptions or guilt-tripping. Tim even compliments him on the work he does, though to be fair, Tim compliments his work most of the time. As the sun lowers in the sky, they work together to place poppy seed pods along a nifty rack Tim made, with strips of cloth to hold the pods and let them air out while also drying them in the sunlight. Nick makes sure to compliment Tim's craftiness so he can hear those sweet little bubbly giggles again. 

When night falls and the shop officially closes and the bells in the town hall's belfry ring seven at night, Nick sets his basket atop the kitchen counter. There are plenty of berries to cook and sprigs to dry, but Jus and Oskar and Tim will be eating dinner rather soon, and it would be unseemly of Nick to stick around until then. People don't like others staying past their welcome. While Tim might invite Nick to dinner some day, that day is not today, and Nick knows his place; after all, he’s had to learn it from people who treated him like a piece of trash for being homeless, so Nick has learned quickly. Time to head out.

He gives Tim a hug before he leaves, enjoying the warmth of Tim's body against his and the way Tim's hands rest lightly on his back. Oskar gives him a glance on the way out - a respectful nod and sharp blue eyes. Hiding his jumpiness, Nick nods back with a little wave.  


Then, Nick leaves into the night, human worries gone for now, replaced with a cat's simple needs. Food, mostly. After a few blocks' distance is between him and King's Crown, he shifts into his cat form.

His wide brown eyes glow a greenish hue in the low lighting.

The nightly hunt is on.

\---

Even though he's been sleeping under the bridge again for almost a month, now, Nick still isn't used to how it forms cricks in his back. At least he managed to catch a mouse last night as it feasted on the last remains of the Lunasa scatterings, so he’s full enough to last a day or so. Sleepily, he unwinds himself from the little ball he always curls into to conserve warmth and arches his back, wincing at the crackles and pops. It doesn't feel great, but the grass nest is better than sleeping on stone, at least.

A lone car rattles over the bridge, and Nick winces again, this time at the cacophonous echo against his sensitive cat-ears.

He shifts back into a human easily and begins the process of stretching out his sore muscles. Once he can move without groaning, Nick puts on a different hoodie and takes the one he had worn for the last three days to the river for a rinsing. All his clothes smell like fresh water and wet rocks, and not the faint sweetness in most laundry soaps, but Nick has seen a few "forest fresh" scents, so hopefully no one thinks anything of it.

Riverwater isn't that far off from pinecones, in terms of smell, anyway. Or at least most humans can't tell the difference.

As long as Oskar isn't in his half-dog, half-human form, Nick will be fine.

From there, he heads off to trim hedges on the north side of the city for an apartment complex. They're his most valuable customers - they make his coffee runs possible, and they're new, and they're semi-official even if he does get paid in cash and off the books, so he has to keep a decent appearance and do his job during the day rather than in the middle of the night. They even give him an apron uniform to wear while he works, and they provide their own equipment, if shoddy. It's easy enough. The hedges are young, and their branches yield to the dull snips without too much fuss. 

Quick and simple. The complex's manager gives him enough money for two weeks' coffees and Nick agrees to return.

Off to home to sleep and conserve energy until he can visit Tim.

Using the afternoon heat as his alarm clock, Nick wakes up at just the right time to take the long walk to King's Crown. He shifts back into his fully human form, rolls up his sleeves, and takes off. Part of the distance can be travelled with shortcuts, but most of the way there must be walked as a human, lest someone notice him shifting back and forth and alert Jus or Oskar, or, worst of all, Tim. 

But getting there, while time-consuming, is simple enough, and Tim greets him with a bright smile as he goes through the shop to the kitchen.

"We're making bread today!" he chirps, smiling as per usual when he first sees Nick, his hands on the kitchen's stand mixer. Patiently, Nick lets Tim guide him through the process of kneading dough. It makes his arms ache from the exertion - and Nick certainly isn't weak by any means - and yet Tim seems to handle it easily. Nick compliments his skill, and Tim's stammered modesties are really just so cute, Nick doesn't know how the gods gave him Tim and a part of him is almost waiting with bated breath for when Tim will be snatched away.

It wouldn’t take much. A stray car and a lack of Nick’s attention, or someone at the shop recognising him as an ixtal. One slip-up where he doesn’t control his ears and they pop out as they so often do when he’s tired. If his money runs dry, if Jesper and Alfonso can’t afford to pay him for his hedge work or if they move or if the apartment complex hires an actual gardener, Nick would have to stop going to the cafe.

It’s a fragile happiness.

Tim carefully guides him through writing sigils on the bread, for health and good luck, and Nick does his best to not be nearly such a doomsdayer as he usually is when he’s alone with the wolves in his head and the wolves in the forest beyond the bridge. It’s not hard to send away his bad thoughts when he has Tim here to help drown them out, at least. They chat about a few things here and there. Most of their time, though, is spent within the comfortable silence that has grown between them with more and more days of working together, building their own sort of harmony. It isn’t that of a witch and a familiar, the kind of natural synergy Jus and Oskar have together, but it’s just for Nick and Tim and that makes it special enough. Right? Nick doesn’t need anything more.

“Hey, Nick?” Tim asks quietly, making a gap of noise in the silence like a gentle hand separating dough into pieces of bread.

“Yeah?” he answers just as lightly.

“Do you think Soves would be a good familiar?”

Oh.

So this is how the gods kill Nick’s hopes and dreams.

“I think so,” Nick says, masking his disappointment well.

“Are you sure? I was thinking just for a try…” Tim trails off with a shrug. “She seems to like me well enough, and having a familiar again would be nice…”

“Yeah, I’d go for it,” Nick agrees. Tim has taught him only a little about magic - their chats mostly revolve around whatever they’re doing and the fantastical stories Tim knows of the gods and goddesses and heroes of legend, not leaving much room for talks of what most people learn in school - but Nick knows Tim really does want a familiar. Why else would he be willing to take in a stray off the street just a month ago?

“Still,” Tim murmurs with reservation, “she bit you…”

Nick shrugs it off. “All that means is that she’s protective. She’s a good cat and I can see how much she likes you. It’s worth a try, at least,” he says, nudging Tim’s elbow with his own as they shape the last of the dough into proper baking form and add a simple sigil.

“Yes… I think you’re right,” says Tim with a nod. “Thanks, Nick.”

His smile makes something in Nick’s heart both ache and warm. “You’re welcome. I hope it works out.”

“Me too… I think I’ll take her to the vet tomorrow. It’ll be done by 8pm or 8,30pm.” As they slide the loaves of dough into the oven, Tim takes a cute little breath, almost a gasp but not quite. Nick remembers these; Tim does that when he’s trying to amp himself up or build courage, and it’s absolutely adorable, always. “Would you- would you want to come back around then tomorrow?” Tim asks, brushing the extra flour off his hands.

“I can just stay here and help with some of the things you haven’t been able to get to. Someone’s gotta cover for your slack,” Nick teases with an admittedly somewhat smitten smile, and Tim’s answering grin is so worth it.

\---

And so it is decided. Nick will stay at the shop, working in the garden to help Tim out, until Tim gets back. It’s not like the work is hard, anyway; it’s simple stuff like pulling a few weeds and crushing some eggshells for fertiliser and untangling the morning glories from the marigolds with a careful hand.

"Nick?" calls a voice into the garden, interrupting the work Tim had mentioned off-hand a few times the last few days.

Nick pokes his head up from the organised mess of plants, wondering who might be asking for him.

"Oh, there you are!" Jus chirps with a grin, "come inside, you've been out there for hours!"

Quickly, Nick picks the last few raspberries from the bush and drops them in his basket, then carries his haul inside to the kitchen countertop before awkwardly joining Jus and Oskar in the shop, now closed for the night. At the shop counter, Oskar stands cleaning up a little bit from the day, while Jus stands in the middle of the shop, his hands outstretched and emanating a golden sort of shine that presumably is some sort of magic as the tables and chairs all glow, too. Then - ah, it  _ is  _ magic! - the shop sets itself to rights at the snap of Jus’s fingers. Nick awkwardly picks at his rolled-up sleeves, wondering if he should just go back to working. He’s good at that, at least.

“Here, I’ll make you a drink,” Jus declares before Nick can head for the door.

Meekly, Nick nods.

“You like teas when it gets late, right?” asks Jus with bright, intelligent eyes as he easily moves around Oskar to grab two mugs, which Nick guesses are for drinks.

Again, Nick meekly nods. He’s rather out of his element here, as his vaguely raggedy clothes remind him - compared to Jus’s fashionable blouse and neat slacks, Nick’s worn and dirty hoodie is honestly an embarrassment, as his clothing usually is, but he can’t really change that, now can he?

“Does blueberry-lavender tea sound good?”

Nick nods.

“You can just grab a seat,” Jus says as his hands work the espresso machine and his magic mixes blueberry syrup into lavender tea.

Next to Jus’s smiling countenance, Oskar stands nearly motionless, still cleaning up. His eyes glint a steely blue even in the warm sunset light, and his lips, normally loose and with a joke or jab at the ready for Tim or Jus, now press together ever so slightly in a firm line.

Nick gulps. “Okay,” he peeps. The table to sit at has already been designated by two floating saucers that set themselves down at a table that scoots itself towards the shop counter, ready for hot drinks to be placed on top, and Nick sits down as silently as he can, trying to ignore the jump in his heartbeat.

“Jus,” Oskar murmurs gently, though the ice in his eyes doesn’t melt in the slightest, “you’re not making a latte this late, are you?”

“Noooo,” Jus drawls in a terribly guilty tone.

“We’ve talked about this,” Oskar adds quietly.

His words are soft, but only for Jus, and everything else about Oskar’s manner is harsh and hard-edged. What could they possibly have in store for Nick?

Do they know?

Do they  _ know  _ about him?

They can’t possibly know, right?

“I have to stay up late tonight anyway,” Jus answers, “now stop being rude, you’re ignoring the other person in the room.”

Actually, Nick wouldn’t mind being ignored, thank you very much.

But, “alright,” says Oskar with a lingering glance towards Jus that Nick can’t distinguish between loving and disapproving - probably a combination of both. “So. Where do you live?” Oskar asks lightly, but Nick can easily tell he’s feigning nonchalance as he wipes down an already-clean glass.

“North of town,” Nick answers easily. That’s where Jesper and Alfonso and a few other kind souls live, so Nick knows the area well enough to easily describe anything he would need to. It’s his pre-made alias, and it has served him well for a few years, now.

But- “No, you don’t,” Oskar says as Jus finishes up their drinks and sits across from Nick at the table, placing both latte and tea with effortless magic. “There’s no river there. You smell like you live near a river. Very close to a river, actually,” Oskar concludes.

Nick blanches. Oskar- Oskar can’t tell exactly where he lives based purely on scent, right? Riverwater and crumbling asphalt isn't so different from grass and pinecones, is it?

“So where do you actually live?” Jus asks gently, after a sip of his latte, with kind green eyes that sparkle with curiosity and shine with glints of hard-edged suspicion.

“Uh- the- the west,” Nick admits to Jus, truthfully, this time. “About an hour away, walking.” If he’s human, at least. It's a little faster as a cat, with all the shortcuts he can find that tunnel between buildings and seem physically impossible. But who is Nick to question the unchallengeable magic of the city and its bustling life? Besides, the shortcuts help. Never question a good thing.

Terrifyingly, though, Oskar takes a moment to think. “There’s no housing there,” he says. His hands stop their idle movements. Nick's heart starts thrumming like he's fleeing from a wolf, except this time there is nowhere to run, and he can't shift to help himself get away. That would simply worsen the problem.

At least this wolf can be reasoned with. "Oh, maybe you're thinking of the wrong place," Nick says nervously, even though dogs have an ineffable sense of space and time that transfers over to their kin vastaya and ixtal. 

"No," Oskar says simply, fixing his clear blue eyes on Nick, who timidly stares back before dropping his gaze back to the swirling purple in his tea, "the west is industrial. Only offices and stores. It doesn't matter if you're fast or slow, an hour's walk either puts you at the edge of the city or in the middle of the industrial bloc."

Nick's mind goes blank as he searches for an answer. He isn't ashamed of his situation, per se, but he doesn't need pity from Oskar or Jus and he certainly doesn't need it from Tim. It would just make things even more difficult between them. Deep in thought, Nick notices Jus and Oskar share a glance. Oskar's eyes soften a little bit. They must be sharing thoughts, the way Tim had told him about. It sounds scary, but also comforting, in a way, to be able to meld your mind into that of someone else. It would be nice to try that with Tim, Nick thinks. But then again, he has nothing to offer as a familiar, and Tim is with Soves. Nick had his chance. He can only blame himself for shunning it. 

"So?" Jus asks lightly, drawing Nick back to the tense situation at hand. "Are you staying with a friend, or…? We don't mean to pry," he clarifies, "we just-"

"We're Tim's friends," Oskar chips in, "but we're also basically Tim's brothers, and he's the same for us."

"We've been living together for a few years already," Jus adds, "and I've been roommates with Tim for probably over a decade, by now. So I want to know more about my best friend's potential future boyfriend."

Nick swallows hard. "Yeah, that's- no worries, I don't mind, I, um. Yeah, I live on the edge of the city."

"That makes sense," Oskar says firmly, "but you smell like the Kaiserblutfluss. That river doesn't run by any housing and I know that for a fact."

Against his better judgment, Nick sorely chuckles. He should really work on his dark humour habit. “There’s a bridge,” he retorts.

Both Oskar and Jus stare at him. 

Losing all confidence, Nick kneads his hands in his lap.

"You're homeless."

"...yeah," Nick answers Oskar, his voice barely above a whisper, the soothing tea in front of him entirely forgotten. 

“Homeless by choice?” Jus asks gently, “or by misfortune?”

“Is homeless by choice even a thing?” Nick scoffs, still almost silent. “Misfortune, obviously.”

“I mean, my other familiar is a wanderer by choice,” Jus says with a little smile. He moves on before Nick can question having two familiars. “You don’t like the lifestyle much?”

“Never had a say in it,” Nick mumbles, but that’s a story for another time. “It’s not all horrible, but…”

“You want more.”

Nick shrugs and nods, both at once. “I don’t need more for myself,” he says with a tiny voice as his hands fidget under his gaze. “I’ve been okay so far.” Besides one or two depressive episodes. Maybe a lot more than one or two.

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes,” Nick says firmly, eager to prove himself worthy of Tim’s affection. “I do odd jobs for some families on the north side. Trimming hedges, basic garden care, mowing lawns, mouse control. And landscaping work for an apartment.”

“I can’t imagine you make a lot.”

He flinches, but sighs. It’s true. “It’s enough for medicine,” he says softly. “And enough to pay for a drink each day.”

“Are you sick?”

“Just depression and anxiety. The meds help a lot.”

“Well, that’s good.” Kindly, Jus smiles at him. “How do you eat?” he asks, with that same worry for his friends and acquaintances Tim sometimes mentions off-handedly. “Besides drinking coffee here and whatever snacks Tim happens to be eating and shares with you.”

“I hunt,” Nick says plainly.

“You’re ixtal.”

Even in the dim light of the shop in the evening, Nick recognises that hunting-hound sheen in Oskar's eyes, the one dogs get when they know they're on the right scent, the one he sees in wolves when they smell him and run him up a tree. Slowly, with tiny movements, Nick nods. 

“Shadow,” Oskar says, still watching him with those hunting eyes.

Nick flinches, and his muscles tense with the reflex to run.

“I knew it!" Oskar chortles, "See, I fucking  _ told _ you!” He grins triumphantly at Jus. The pit in Nick's stomach grows - how long has Oskar suspected the truth? Clearly he's told Jus; has he told Tim? Does Tim know? He can't know, Nick can't let Tim know the horrible lies he's told, he just can't, he-

“Oskarrr! Stop that, you’re being rude," Jus chides. 

“I’m sorry,” Nick murmurs, standing, removing the handmade apron he never deserved to have or wear and the comfortable, perfectly-fitted hat Tim made for a liar. His voice wavers, but at least in leaving he can be resolute. “I- I should just go, I won’t come back, don’t worry, just let Tim know I, uh… I’m really sorry,,” he stammers, voice cracking and creaky with unshed tears, “and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where are you going?" As Nick takes a few steps towards the door, Jus rises and gently holds him back with a light arm and kind smile. "What do you mean you won’t come back here?" he asks, but Nick can't make eye contact. He just looks down in shame, and Jus very carefully pats his shoulder. "Come on, you’re part of the family, now, basically.”

“Please, don’t tell Tim,” Nick mumbles. “He doesn’t- I know- I already hurt him too much, don’t tell him about… me.”

“We won’t," Jus promises. His eyes dodge to Oskar.

Oskar doesn't truly answer. “You should tell him someday, if you’re going to stay," he says instead.

“I… I will.” Maybe.

Nick will probably never get so far with Tim that they trust each other so deeply, so fully that he could reveal the truth, but it's a noble goal to have.

Gently, Jus ruffles his hair and Nick withholds a sniffle. “How about you go help in the garden some more, alright? Tim will be back soon, he’s excited to keep talking to you,” Jus says in a patient, caring voice that quickly kills whatever weak argument Nick had for leaving. “Oh, and don’t forget this,” Jus adds as Nick puts his apron back on and sets his hat on the hook by the kitchen door whittled just for him, next to the one with Tim’s set of gardening wear and a spare pair of work-gloves. The mug of warm lavender tea nudges Nick lightly on the shoulder.

He sips from it slowly, sitting on the porch swing and aimlessly watching the sunlight fade behind tree leaves and buildings. It’s sweet, but also tangy and floral, and there must be some sort of magic in it, because the stress that had flooded through Nick’s body and the fight-or-flight response to Oskar knowing his secret fades with each taste of blueberries and lavender Nick has. At long last, Nick empties his cup. Setting it lightly next to some potted plants on the windowsill, he returns to his work, snipping and trimming little sprigs of the rosemary hedge and the other hedges, too. These rhythms soothe him like nothing else. His hands just know where to go, and he doesn’t have to question himself or second-guess or feel guilty, here - this feels like home.

“Nick?” Jus calls again, after a while of the sun setting. Nick hadn’t even noticed how dark it had become. The sun is but a memory, now, as it slips under the horizon leaving only red clouds with orange plumes in the sky.

Nick pops his head up from the rosemary hedge in answer.

“Come inside. I know Tim has lights strung up along the fence, but it’s still late. You’ll get torn up by mosquitos if you stay out too long. Come inside,” Jus encourages, “Tim will be back soon.”

Obediently, Nick carries his basket, newly filled with a few handfuls of rosemary, into the kitchen. Tim hasn’t yet shown him how to tie herbs into bundles that will hang and dry properly just yet, but he can sort already-dried herbs, at least.

He plucks a bundle of lavender from the pantry ceiling and grabs the jar of lavender petals and gets to work, removing the woody stem from within the ring of lavender petals on each sprig and dropping the flowers neatly into the jar, enjoying the soft rustle as they settle in. His human nose isn’t quite so adept, so he can’t smell the delicious, gentle fullness and relaxation of lavender to its strongest, but he can see their beauty and feel their fragility against his rough-callused fingers as he strips the stems bare.

It’s a comfortable rhythm that Nick loses himself in. It would seem that there are many comfortable rhythms in this house that isn’t Nick’s home.

“Nick?” Jus asks once more, interrupting his repetitive work and sleepy mind-wandering.

Nick looks up from his work.

“Would you like a more permanent home?”

Still silent, Nick shrugs. “I’m doing alright,” he answers as always, “you don’t have to worry about me just because of Tim.” Humbly, he keeps shucking petals from the lavender sprigs into a jar.

“I mean, it’s not just that,” Jus chuckles. “But anyway. Oskar and I were thinking,” he says, and only then does Nick notice the dog ixtal half-shifted with his ears and tail showing behind Jus, “since you pretty much already work for us, we can hire you full-time and you can live here and be paid a little on top of that.”

Nick freezes.

“We looked at our finances,” Jus continues, “and we can afford it. The shop is getting more busy, too, and Tim needs help. Before you arrived, he ran everything behind the scenes on his own. I know having you around has been really helpful for him and for the shop.”

“Jus,” Nick starts, “I can’t just- you’re being too generous, Jus. Really.” It’s a great offer, but handouts always end. Nick can’t accept them. All they do is make him weaker in the end. Never question a good thing, but always question what is too good to be true.

“It’s a full-time job, Nick,” Jus retorts. “Tim is almost always up by 5am, you’d have to start helping him as soon as the sun rises and you already know his work schedule in the afternoon. It’s not easy work - the compensation fits the job.” 

Receiving no answer, Jus changes tracks.

“I mean, if you currently had a flat, you’d agree to just move in, right? Even Oskar thinks it’s a reasonable deal for both sides, and he’s the stingy one in the business.” Jus nudges Oskar’s side at that, and Oskar grumbles, but he nods.

“I wouldn’t let Jus make this kind of offer without considering it fully,” Oskar adds.

“Obviously you don’t have to answer right now, but it’s there.”

Nick nods. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I… I’ll think about it.”

Just not today. It isn’t late, per se, but Nick typically naps through midday so he’s well-rested for the nightly hunt, and he came to help Tim, instead, so he’s running a bit low on sleep and in any case, such an important decision requires deeper thought than he can truly provide right now. Moving in with Tim and Jus and Oskar would be a big risk to all of them. He should consider the benefits and risks more before he dives headfirst into something he can’t handle.

In the meantime, there’s more lavender petals and buds to be put into jars, and Tim isn’t back yet, so Nick keeps his hands busy while he waits.

After he’s halfway through the bunch of lavender, something pricks at Nick’s senses. It isn’t physical, or, as far as Nick is concerned, entirely real, but it nudges at him. He stands, finding himself drawn to the kitchen by some sort of sixth sense, jar of lavender still in hand.

Tim opens the door just as Nick steps out from the kitchen. Soves is in his arms, but something isn’t right. They should be witch and familiar, now, and happy and celebratory and Nick is there to congratulate Tim on bonding to a cat that should be him instead but now guilt rises in Nick’s chest because something isn’t right and he can’t shake the feeling that it has to do with him.

“How did the bonding go, Tim?” Jus asks gently.

“It didn’t work. Bae-in doesn’t know why.”

In the quiet, Tim lets Soves drop to the floor from his arms, and, as she pads away, lightly at first and then running from her shame, Tim sighs. It almost seems like a sigh of relief, a sigh that could wash away all the ache and sadness and lingering grief, but still the depression hangs over Tim’s head like a cloud of gloom, and all Nick can do in that brief moment is watch as Tim stares at the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit a bit of a mental health slump while on vacation and couldnt finish this chapter on time (also didnt have computer... wow its hard to type on a phone, it takes so much longer o.o)  
> as condolences, there will be another chapter on wednesday and then the normal schedule will resume on friday!  
> (hopefully)
> 
> in the meantime, check out [my twitter, @shyverrr](https://twitter.com/shyverrr) for writing updates and to see some of the ideas i have in progress!
> 
> <3 thanks for sticking with this story for so long <3


	11. Lemonade and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't Tim some sort of failure? He must be, at this point, to have failed the second familiar bonding in so short a timeframe. At least Nick is there to help him and comfort him and cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! wrote this one almost entirely today o_o my finger joints are a little sore now lol  
> enjoy!

“It didn’t work,” he hears himself mumble, “Bae-in doesn’t know why,” and Tim doesn’t either. Ever since Bae-in had told him the bad news, nothing has really felt real.

It’s like boarding school all over again.

Other witches don’t have these problems.

Other witches don’t have their magic fail.

Other witches don’t have familiars reject them.

Tim sighs and lets Soves leap down onto the ground from his arms. She twines around his feet, like a sad apology, then walks away hesitantly to a patch of sunlight.

“Wanna sit on the porch swing?” says a soft, sweet voice, and Tim only then remembers that Nick is still there. Ah, he’s such a horrible host.

Still mostly staring at the ground, Tim nods, and, for once, Nick leads Tim into the garden rather than the other way around. At least here he is strong. His plants lend him their strength for a little bit, just to let him lean on something spiritually as well as Nick’s shoulder in the physical world, and Nick pats his hand once, twice, before letting Tim’s hands be lonely in his lap. The sun is setting in that way it does, slowly at first and then all at once. It would seem that pain, sadness, and heartache come much the same way, at least for Tim.

Smooth under his fingertips, the worn wood of the swing melts into his touch like warm silk. After a few minutes of hearing only the wind rustling the leaves of Tim’s quiet-for-once garden, Nick speaks. “Want to go walking?” he asks quietly, in the breeze that quiets to listen to them.

“No,” Tim says, nearly whispers.

Nick makes a little hum of acceptance, and Tim, after another gust of wind seems to gently caress his cheek as a comfort, pulls his knees to his chest and rests his face behind his knees. Ever so lightly, the swing starts to rock. Nick must be nudging his feet along the ground beneath them.

As a sign of his gratitude, Tim leans into Nick’s touch more, letting the other boy’s sharp, bony shoulder press into his cheek.

He sighs again. “Doing okay?”

“No.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Only if you have time.”

“I would always make time if you need it,” says Nick gently, as though such an offer comes naturally to him even though it means so much to Tim.

Tim sighs once more, but this time, instead of that breath being full of pain and sorrow, it brings peace and at least a scrap of happiness. 

Gently, Nick’s arms wrap around him, and Tim leans hard into the feeling of warmth and comfort in this world that, though he knows it doesn’t truly, seems to hate him.

“Do you know what happened with Soves?” Nick asks lightly, so lightly that his voice nearly slips away amidst the last chatter of birds before nightfall, just as lightly as his arms fall away from Tim’s shoulders once their hug has lasted long enough.

“No,” Tim answers with another sigh. “Bae-in said something was blocking it, even though Soves agreed wholeheartedly. Like oil and water. It just didn’t work.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Rubbing at his eyes with exhaustion and heartache, Tim does his best to shrug it off. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “It’s not that bad,” he adds, trying to explain away the heavy weight on his shoulders, “not the first time I’ve been rejected by a familiar. Probably won’t be the last, either, with my luck.”

Something in Nick’s expression twists into deep sympathy, but Tim can’t find it in himself to look at him right now.

“At least Soves is a housecat. I’ll just- I’ll just keep her as a pet,” Tim says, even though that won’t heal the hole in his soul from when Dracarys had left, now reshaped into a puzzle piece that really only fits Shadow.

Despite Tim’s best efforts to move on, he still misses Shadow. Sometimes he wakes up at night, wondering where the little yellow cat is at that moment, if he’s still alive or- or… Or if Shadow is out there, somewhere, hungry and cold and wanting to be back home with Tim but unable to stay. Maybe Shadow has a family, sisters and brothers and an old mama cat to take care of. Tim likes to think that Shadow is strong and healthy, after all the good food Tim had fed him, and perhaps Shadow lives in a big forest, with plenty of mice and rabbits to catch and a nice little stream to swim in and drink from and an abandoned foxhole for a cosy shelter. Hopefully he’s happy, or as happy as a cat can be.

Tim sniffles. Shadow might be gone, but he can care for Soves, and Soves had been in distress, too, after the bond failed. She was probably looking forward to it. Of course, she’s not Shadow; she’s not as cuddly or attached as Shadow was, and she prefers to watch over Tim rather than follow him and sniff at everything he touches. Laying in the sunlight is her favourite place to be, rather than Tim’s side, and she likes watching customers in the shop instead of standing on the countertop while Tim cooks or bakes, and her disdain for sitting in laps is well-known. But she accepts head-pats and chin-rubs and ear-scritches and strokes along her back just as well as any other cat. She’s a good cat. Tim can tell she likes him, appreciates his magic, could help him wield it and control it. 

And Tim doesn’t have the problems other witches have - he’s not so strong with his magic that it would overwhelm an animal, the way Jus is. Jus can’t have a pet be his familiar, only boyfriends, who in turn must be able to control their own magic. But Tim isn’t that strong. He’s skilled, of course; you don’t get through the most prestigious magic school in Europe without learning how to very carefully manipulate every last ounce of magic in a way no one else there could or had to, because they all had enough magic to do everything their classes asked of them while Tim had to stretch his abilities thin. Still, if Tim’s magic is an open faucet, Jus’s is a rushing river. Most animals can’t withstand the force of that much magic.

Tim also isn’t weak with his magic. Age and intense training has let him learn to use his average natural ability with prowess. When he was young, he was certainly a burden on Dracarys’s magic, but as he grew and learned they became equal. Even if Soves’s other witch was stronger than Tim, he’s smart enough about magic to keep that from being a problem.

And yet it still didn’t work.

Tim sighs. Nick’s slim hands pat his back, so Tim smiles, at the very least, trying to let Nick know he’ll be okay, even though he’ll be giving up on the search for a familiar for a long while, now. Soves will do perfectly well as a pet, and Tim has a human friend to replace his belated, beloved Dracarys. Avoiding the heartache of failing another familiar-bonding ceremony is his best option.

Speaking of Soves - she slinks through the cat-door quietly and looks at Tim for a few moments, waiting for him to accept her attention as an apology of sorts, even though she didn’t do anything wrong. Tim sets one of the swing’s spare cushions on the ground for her to sit on, and she does so with a quiet meow.

At least she doesn’t seem as angry at Nick as she usually is, anymore. He doesn’t pet her, and there are still bite-marks on his hand, a row of little puncture scars on his palm and the back of his hand. But Soves doesn’t hiss at Nick or even glare at him the way she used to. Right now, she just rests her head on her paws, looking like a shell of her typically-regal self.

Tim pats her head and scratches her scruff with a touch that is still as loving as it ever was.

Quietly, Soves meows again, a sad little noise.

“I’m sorry, Soves,” Tim murmurs.

She licks his hand, an apology of her own, and soon returns into the shop to mourn alone for her old witch and the new one who cannot be her witch.

The silence drags on until it is no longer silence, and the quiet chirping of crickets in the night blends with the almost-inaudible creaking of the porch swing as Nick sways them gently, the tips of his shoes pressing into the soil in a way that the moss and grass beneath them would normally find mind-numbingly enjoyable, but which now only elicits a little hum of happiness. Though they are sympathetic, the plants don’t truly understand. Tim isn’t entirely sure he fully knows what’s going on, either, but he’ll have to be patient.

They’ve sat like this before, in the same situation, but in a sense they’ve both changed. Tim doesn’t know what Nick is going through, but it was enough for him to turn Tim down.

It hurt.

Sometimes Tim wonders if he’ll ever be right for anyone again.

But at the same time, Tim feels somewhat better than he used to. Having Nick around is a blessing from Lulu, or maybe even Varus, if that god of Tim’s love would be so willing. Now, Tim only has to go through a handful of hours of each day entirely alone. Nick stays longer and later and learns so quickly; it’s a thrill to talk to him, even more so now that he has begun to reciprocate some of Tim’s little flirts again, like all those cute texts Tim admittedly looks through more often than strictly necessary and the fun they’d had at Lunasa and all the compliments he gives to Tim’s work. Tim makes sure to return those when he can, too, to see a smile crest over Nick’s typically-expressionless face.

Making Nick smile and laugh is easy for Tim, but addictive. He hopes it’s the same way around for Nick about Tim, since Varus knows how easily Tim laughs at his crush’s jabs and puns and jokes, even if they’re nonsensical and silly. Tim doesn’t know if he would call it love just yet, but something about being around Nick just feels right, whether they’re in the garden or the kitchen or on the porch swing just like this.

A gentle touch against his shoulder brings Tim back out of his thoughts. Nick’s arm rests across his shoulders, and Tim’s head is leaning against Nick, and, for a moment, Tim wonders if he should pull away. He doesn’t want to, though. It feels too nice.

And then Tim looks up and sees a few faint stars appearing in the dimming sky.

“Oh,” he murmurs, noticing the brightest star, one of the eyes in Cassiopeia’s constellation. _“Oh,”_ Tim repeats, suddenly worried, “sorry, it’s gotten so late - you probably need to go. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

Bewildered, Nick blinks at him for a second. “That’s okay,” he chuckles once he’s processed Tim’s rush of words, “I wasn’t busy tonight at all. Are you feeling okay?” he asks softly, his hand resting against Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m… I’ll be okay. Will you come back tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome, so I’ll leave once the baskets are put away?” Nick suggests lightly, nodding to the two baskets of berries they had picked together earlier in the day and one basket of various herbs and trimmings that Nick must have harvested while he was gone.

But it’s rather late, isn’t it? “You- you can stay longer. If you’d like,” Tim offers. “It would be like one of those sleepover parties, you know? There’s a futon if you want to use it tonight.” And keeping Nick with him a little longer, while selfish, seems like the best option to mend Tim’s brokenness right now.

Nick blinks at him again, almost cat-like in how he thinks, and Tim wonders if maybe that’s the reason he likes Nick so much. Then, “Okay,” Nick answers with a timid half-smile, “if you’re sure that’s alright. I’d enjoy it.”

“Okay! Let’s go inside, then,” Tim says, leading Nick through the door and pausing while Nick hangs his apron on the little hook Oskar whittled for him. “You haven’t seen my room yet, have you?” Tim asks, hoping he doesn’t seem overly forward when he really does just want to hang out with Nick, not do anything more.

“Nope. Are there lots of plants?”

“I mean,” Tim says with his most playful tone of voice as they climb the stairs and leave their shoes at the top, “depends on how many you consider a lot.”

“If it’s fewer than five I’d be surprised,” Nick teases, grinning when Tim looks back at him.

“I guess you won’t be surprised, then,” Tim says with a light little giggle. He’s excited to see Nick’s reaction to his room in a way that most other friends don’t excite him - and he rarely has good enough friends to let them see his room, anyway, since Jus and Oskar have been with him since the three of them moved into this house from Jus’s grandparents.

His room is rather old-fashioned in terms of what Tim has. The only pieces of high-tech, with software and wires and blinking lights, are his laptop and a bluetooth speaker and his phone. There’s other things, too, like an old desk lamp for his big desk and a little grow-light for the row of baby plants along the windowsill and a heating pad to help planted seeds sprout a little quicker, but most of his recreational activities can be seen on a shelf - an embroidery hoop, a half-made straw hat, tens of books on plant life and herbs and garden witch studies, a calendar marking important growth periods and duelling matches to watch.

“Your room is so cute!” Nick chirps with an adorable giggle, and Tim feels his sadness shrinking within him like the cold retreating into his bones after he comes inside from going to the outdoor market in winter.

“Thank you,” Tim answers proudly. What with his desk and closet and bed, there isn’t a ton of extra room, but it’s enough to comfortably move around in, and the futon should fit perfectly well on the wooden floor. Speaking of that- “I’ll go grab the futon,” Tim says, “be right back,” and he hurries to fetch the futon from its bundle, stored neatly in the attic in its own handy box where his brother usually grabs it from.

When Tim returns to his room, he lays the futon out on the floor. Hopefully that will be enough for Nick, who, Tim now sees, is perched lightly on his desk chair waiting. “Thanks!” he chirps again.

“No problem. I hope that’ll be comfortable enough,” Tim says, almost apologetically, with a little awkward chuckle. It’s not often that he has to entertain visitors, though lately he’s become so used to working alongside Nick that there’s generally no awkwardness between them in the garden. Different circumstances mean different behaviours, though, and so Tim sits on his bed, opposite Nick, and his fingers grip at each other nervously. “Um… do you have any card games you like? I don’t really have all that many two-person things, but I can get some cards from Oskar if you want?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Everything here is so cool,” Nick says. His wide brown eyes show just how genuine he is. “Um, is it okay if I look around?” he asks, looking at the windowsill of plants from afar.

“Yeah, sure,” Tim says happily. The only thing he has to hide is his journals - and even then, those are filled with so much information from the plants that his own secrets are easily drowned out.

Standing from the chair, Nick starts to very slowly look around, though he mostly looks at the plants to start out with. “Are these all babies?” he asks, noting how tiny the little sprouts are. Tim stands to get a little closer and show him around, not questioning why he wants to be so close to Nick. It’s been a rough day. That’s the excuse he’ll feed his mind if he needs to. It’s been a rough day.

“Yes,” Tim answers Nick, “those are more aloe vera pups.” He’s already shown Nick the succulents in the shop, after all, so these should be at least a little recogniseable. “I have way too many of them,” Tim adds sheepishly, “but I don’t want to just throw them away, so… yeah. Jus sells them sometimes, too! They come in handy for sunburns.”

“Well, no wonder you have so many!” Nick teases, and Tim flushes almost as red as his frequent sunburns.

From there, Nick’s eyes scan the room again, and latch onto something on Tim’s bed. “You have plushies! Aww,” Nick cooes, walking over with Tim right behind him and giving the well-worn cat plush a light scratch behind its heavily-patched ears. “This one is so cute, does it have a name?” His fingers trail down the series of patches making up its body - poor little Fate, he’s long since become more patchwork than original material, and what little scraps of black that remain are almost threadbare.

“Oh, his paw doesn’t sit right,” Tim says, sitting down next to Nick as Nick tries to adjust Fate’s paw to sit correctly on the bed rather than upside-down compared to the rest of his body. “His name is Fate because his paw is twisted,” he adds with a little giggle. Tim still remembers horribly butchering the first repair he had made without the help of his mother. It had turned out fine in the end - even with a twisted paw, Fate is Tim’s absolute favourite plush of the two or three he has. Fate has been with him since Tim can remember. In a way, that’s reassuring, considering the difficulty of recent times...

But he should enjoy the present, and not draw the sadness out from within him where it has hidden, driven away by Nick’s presence. “Is that- there’s some kind of hero with that, isn’t there?” Nick says, tilting his head as he thinks about the little lore lessons Tim has been giving him as they work. “I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, Twisted Fate,” Tim says. “He’s the one with Graves and Miss Fortune, the ones who defeated Gangplank.”

“Oh, I remember now.”

Tim nods at him brightly, happy to see that his pupil of sorts is understanding more.

“He’s your favourite, right?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“Well, of course I would remember,” Nick says, smiling.

Tim giggles at an embarrassingly high pitch. “I used to try to copy his card magic,” he says, making small-talk as best as he can. “In the stories, he’s just an average person. His lineage wasn’t great, and he would have been a water witch if he wasn’t scared of the water.”

“Is that how magic works?” Nick asks with a quizzical twist in his brow. “You’re just… born with it?”

“No, no,” Tim clarifies, “You have talents, and you learn a lot from your family - if your parents are water elemental witches, you’ll probably be one too, but you can learn other things.” His own brother is a strong example of that - storm magic was never had by anyone in their tiny little town in Slovenia, and yet Tim is now related to one of the strongest storm and disaster witches in the duelling world. “My mom is a garden witch,” though, Tim says, explaining his much humbler origins, “so I learned a lot from her.”

“Ah, I see.” Nick quietly gnaws at his lip, his hands fidgeting with the blankets of Tim’s bed.

“Were your parents witches?” Tim prompts curiously. They’ve never really talked about home for as long as they’ve been chatting - it just hadn’t come up, but now that it has, Tim finds himself eager to know why Nick doesn’t do magic.

“Mmm… I don’t fully remember,” Nick says, and suddenly Tim becomes aware that he treads on much thinner ice than he thought. “I think my mom and dad were both… Something with the Spirit Realm? I don’t know,” Nick concludes, “I never really spoke to them much.”

“A hedge witch? Oh, that’s so cool!” There are so many cool plants Tim could find in the Spirit Realm - he’s read about it for so long!

“Is it? I don’t know much about it.”

“I’ll get a book for you sometime,” Tim says, “You can gather a lot of materials in the Spirit Realm that you can’t get here, and all the gods and goddesses - well, most of them - live in the Spirit Realm. My brother does his duels there.”

“That’s cool.” Nick says. The silence rests with them for a moment. “What kind of duels?” Nick asks after a short while has passed in the comfortable quietness of a house in the city at night. “Like, fighting with magic?”

“Yeah. He’s really talented.” Tim smiles a little at the thought of his brother. Maybe Nick would even want to watch a duelling match someday… that would be a fun da- not a date. Just an… event! That would be a fun event, yes. Maybe a date if Nick accepts Tim’s invitation next time. “Actually,” Tim murmurs, “I can show you how to do some magic if you want? Everyone has some sort of natural ability, so if I help you it should work.”

For a moment, Nick just blinks at him again. “I- I don’t know if it’ll work, Tim,” he says with an apologetic chuckle, “I’ve never tried doing actual magic.”

“It’ll work, I promise, we just need to figure out how,” Tim says with an air of determination. Enough people have told him his magic won’t work at something that he knows it’s just a matter of how it will work. “Um- give me your hands?” he asks, holding out both of his own. Even if Nick has no magical ability, there’s a way Tim can channel his through Nick - and Nick certainly has magical ability. The hedges always praise the way he trims them, and now Tim knows why, because if Nick is descended from hedge witches then chances are high he has some sort of hedge magic and an affinity for using hedges as a portal to the Spirit Realm.

Lightly, Nick sets each of his hands in Tim’s, and Tim gently repositions them so Nick’s palms are to the sky and Tim’s hands cup Nick’s from underneath.

“Okay, let me just- _emana,”_ Tim murmurs, not fully sure if he has the right spell but then-

Perfect!

Their hands shimmer with a faint sheen of Tim’s magic around them. “It’s working!” Tim cheers giddily.

Nick giggles too, though he does so with much more nervousness rather than Tim’s pure excitement.

“Okay, so first I’ll show you?” Tim says, and as soon as Nick nods, he says his spell. _“Lumia verdana,”_ are the words off his lips, and, just above each of Nick’s outstretched palms, the shimmery magic coalesces into a little orb of floating green light. “This is a really easy spell, it’s a beginners’ one, so- okay, so _lumia_ makes the ball of light and _verdana_ turns it green.”

Brow furrowed in thought the same way it is when Tim teaches him a new story of the gods, Nick nods. “So it’s- okay, it’s _lumia verdana,”_ he repeats after Tim.

Nothing changes.

“Okay, so, um, you have to let go of your magic, sort of? So it flows more freely,” Tim explains. “Try taking a deep breath and saying the spell as you breath out, maybe?”

 _“Lumia verdana,”_ Nick repeats with a breath.

Still nothing.

Hm. “Um, let’s try…” Tim trails off, scouring his brain for other tips and tricks. Maybe trying a few more times would work, or maybe he has to channel his magic through Nick more than he is already, or maybe he’s channelling too much magic and it’s drowning out Nick’s magic.

Then, it hits him.

He’s asking Nick to make a green light where there already is a green light.

No wonder they can’t see the results!

“This time, say _azuris_ instead of _verdana,”_ Tim says. “This will make a blue light instead.”

“Is there a difference?” Nick asks sceptically.

Tim shrugs his shoulders lightly, careful not to disturb his hands or the green orbs of light. “No,” he says, “but we’ll be able to see the blue easier than green on top of green.

“Ohh,” Nick says with a tone of sudden recognition. Then, _“lumia azuris,”_ he says.

Tim feels it like a rush, like a waterfall flowing around his hands, like rivers of wind or scoops of dirt falling between his fingers. It’s magic, and it’s instantaneous, and it’s Nick, and _it works._

The orb becomes a pretty, teal shade of blue-green in a swirling moment, and Nick and Tim grin at each other.

“You did it!” Tim cheers, hands still on Nick’s even as he shakes the magic away and kills the green light. Instinctively, Nick shakes his hands as well, dispelling the blue orb into the same nothingness Tim’s lights disappeared into, and his palms flip over to hold onto Tim’s hands as he bounces them in his lap.

“Yeah!” Nick says with another bright smile, this time even accompanied by a cheery giggle. “Thank you,” he says, once their giddiness has died into a softer sort of happiness.

“Hey, that was all your magic,” Tim returns, “I just showed you how.”

Another soft chuckle, this time accompanied by a sweet gaze that Tim can’t take his eyes off of, is granted to him by Nick, and they stay there for a few seconds, delighting in the residual joy and happiness of magic come true.

Sharply, someone raps their knuckles against the door of Tim’s room.

“Tim?” Jus asks from behind the door, rapping his knuckles gently on it again and utterly destroying the dopey smile Tim had on his face from looking at Nick, and both of them startle and look towards the door. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

Guiltily, Tim answers, “No, I forgot,” as he usually does when caught up in something, whether it’s mourning for his familiar failure or chatting endlessly with Nick. “Sorry,” he adds, turning to Nick at his side, “I didn’t even ask if you were hungry!”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Nick chuckles.

“There’s spaghetti sauce on the stovetop,” Jus calls, “and noodles and salad are in bowls next to the stove. Lemonade and water are in the fridge, in pitchers. Oskar and I already ate.”

Both boys hurry down the stairs to the kitchen for their late dinner. They eat carefully, being sure to not spill any tomato sauce on their clothing lest it leave a horrid stain, but at the same time, as they sit across from each other at the little kitchen table, their eyes meet over and over again and Tim can’t help but blush. Doesn’t this all just feel so perfectly domestic? It’s wonderful, really, how sweet Nick can make Tim feel with just a smile.

Tim yawns as they wash their dishes and dry them. He hurriedly covers his mouth to be more polite, though Nick just chuckles and continues wiping a bowl dry. “Wanna go back to your room?” he asks softly, the last dish placed on a rack to wait and fully dry.

“Sure,” Tim says, eager again despite the tiredness tugging at his eyelids. They set their dishtowels on another drying rack and proceed back up the stairs. Maybe it’s later than Tim thought at first - he feels so tired. Perhaps that’s just the stress of the day, though, all melting away now that Tim has food in his stomach and one of his dearest friends to spend the time with. At the entrance to Tim’s door, a quiet meow greets them. “Oh, hello Soves,” Tim says to her, curled up in her cat-bed, a new one Tim had gotten for her after she refused to sleep in the old one. That one is still in Tim’s closet, at the bottom, with all his old cat-toys for Dracarys and little trinkets she found so long ago and kept ever since.

Soves twines around his legs in a rare expression of affection, then returns to her cat-bed. Today, she doesn’t even bother to hiss at Nick.

Poor kit, she probably feels awful, too.

“Getting tired?” Nick asks gently, when Tim’s mind has lost the words and he frantically searches to recover them.

“A little,” Tim admits. He checks the clock by his bed for the time, and- “oh, it’s late. Usually I’m asleep an hour ago,” he murmurs at the clockface showing 11pm.

“Oh, you’re an early bird,” Nick chuckles. “Makes sense.”

“Are you an early bird too?” Tim asks. He really wouldn’t know - Nick always visits the shop in the afternoon.

“More of a night owl,” Nick says quietly, laying down on the futon and slipping his legs under the sheets, “but I get up early, too, so… yeah.” He chuckles softly.

Blearily, Tim blinks away the sleepiness in his eyes. Maybe laying his head on his pillow just to talk to Nick more easily was a bad idea - he’s nearly falling asleep as it is. “Oh, that’s cool,” he answers lamely, eyelids drooping as he fights to stay awake.

But, “Are you tired?” Nick asks with another quiet, indescribably fond chuckle. “You look exhausted. I’ll turn off the lights.”

“Okay,” Tim murmurs. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Goodnight, Tim,” Nick says simply as the lights flick out, replaced by only the faint moonlight of Diana’s scythe and her fields in the sky.

“Goodnight,” Tim answers.

Soothed by Nick’s presence and exhausted by the day, Tim falls asleep in moments.

\---

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Tim reawakens. Maybe it’s just because he went to sleep so late that his rhythm is all messed up. With a yawn, Tim turns onto his side and listens to the soft chatter of a few night-blooming plants. The jasmine at his bedside perks up when he touches its petals gently, and the two of them talk for a bit about the stars and the moon and sleep magic, careful to let the little aloe vera pups keep sleeping so they can soak up the full strength of the sunlight tomorrow with all their energy.

Then, the jasmine asks him where his friend has gone.

Only then does Tim realise Nick is no longer where he once was, sleeping peacefully on the futon on the floor next to Tim’s bed.

Weird.

Groggily, Tim crawls out of bed, only just realising that he fell asleep in his day-clothes and now his nice sun-shirt is all wrinkled, but that’s an issue for morning-Tim, and he pokes his head out of the door, only to be greeted by the sounds of rapidly skittering claws against the floorboards. “Sorry, Soves,” he murmurs, crouching down to give her an apologetic ear-rub.

The claw-sounds keep clattering away down the hall, away from Tim’s hands. A noise like a light puff of wind sounds through the hallway, then - silence.

And then the running of a faucet, the one in the bathroom sink.

The light in the bathroom clicks on, spilling out into the hallway and Tim holds a hand in front of his sleepy eyes to let them adjust to the presence of light once more before stepping closer to the open door. Nick turns to face him with an almost expectant smile. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks gently, rinsing his hands of soap and quickly drying them before resting one on Tim’s shoulder. “You look so tired, Tim,” he murmurs, quiet in the midnight silence.

Tim sleepily mutters a vague affirmative noise and lets Nick guide him back to his room as though he was the lost one and not Nick.

Yawning and rubbing at his eyes, Tim lays back down in bed and snuggles up under his blankets, warm and cosy in his pyjamas with the comfort of a thin blanket atop him. He can hear Nick on the floor, rearranging the blanket on the futon to get more comfortable, and something about that little rustling noise comforts him.

Today was not a good day.

But thanks to Nick, it wasn’t all bad, either, and this feeling, the feeling of having someone else near to him and dear to him, is one that Tim hasn’t felt in a while for anyone other than his two best friends. It’s nice. 

More than nice.

It feels good to have Nick around, thinks Tim’s sleepy mind, good and fulfilling and right, and that is the last thought Tim processes before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out [this google doc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qd6l89vHBcsfqecW3Bbo6UoYFS3L59I1iE3l-Qn69YI/edit?usp=sharing) for full and frequent fic updates on what's coming soon!
> 
> we're over 10% of the way done with this fic... :O  
> i hope you liked this chapter, let me know what you thought in the comments! <3


	12. Coffee and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night scares Nick today, but it felt so nice to be close to Tim that maybe Nick should stick around.
> 
> Oh, and Nick makes a new friend.

Ultimately, Nick isn’t a very good sleeper. He’s not sure if it’s just because of the dangers that could attack him as he sleeps under the bridge, the dangers he’s used to now, or if he’s just always been like that. After a moment of sleepy thought, Nick shrugs and resigns himself to staring at the ceiling and the bookcase next to him. He’d be more able to read the titles of the books if he were a cat, with the night-vision that comes with that form of his, but oh well. It is what it is. Tim is asleep, anyway, so Nick should be a good guest and stay in his bed, not randomly wander off the way he would if he were a cat.

He’s lucky he didn’t have any work tonight. Otherwise he might have had to turn Tim down, or leave him alone, or awkwardly explain to Jesper why he’s a night late. It’s nice to not have anything to do, though. Tonight, there’s no work he needs to remember, or wolves or dogs to hide from, or angry cats looking to steal his territory. There’s just a sleeping Tim with soft snores and the light of the moon trickling in through the window and a blooming plant with little pretty flowers and the softest blankets Nick has felt in ages and the best mattress he’s had in years. Everything feels so sweet and gentle and domestic and loving.

Something near the plants makes a soft click, and a light turns on. It’s small and dim, shining down on a few of the plants, but it casts a warm, faint light throughout the room that makes the cosy space even cosier. Everything about Tim’s room is cute. Nick remembers all the cat-toys in his closet and how comfortable Tim’s lap was and how his writing is quick and neat and the way he nibbles at his fingers when he’s trying to remember a particularly difficult potion for his grimoire and his little snuffles, the same ones he’s making right now as he sleeps. It’s absolutely perfect, and Nick is the obvious outlier, here.

In the quiet of the night, it isn’t hard for Nick to hear Soves as she walks over to him.  _ Not now, _ he says to her as she gets closer. Waking Tim up in the middle of his sleep after a rough day is not the way Nick wants his one night as a human with Tim to go, not to mention the bitemarks still on his hand.

But instead of clawing him or hissing or being angry, Soves just stares at him in that way cats do, with eyes unblinking and seemingly all-seeing.

_ You were wrong to leave, _ she says. Her tone and body language are all noble once more, nothing like the shell of herself she had been whilst apologising to Tim in the only way she knew how.

Nick just sighs. Is today really the time to be chastising him yet again?

_ But, _ Soves continues, her paws fidgeting ever so slightly against the smooth wood flooring that bears the signs of a few years of cat claws,  _ I understand how you feel, facing your failures, now. _

Oh.

Oh, poor thing.

_ It’s not entirely on you, _ Nick answers gently, sitting up in his bed.  _ It might feel like that, but you tried. You accepted the bond, didn’t you? _

_ Yes, of course. I accepted it with my whole heart. _

_ Maybe your magic just isn’t compatible or something, _ Nick offers. He doesn’t really know how it works, but maybe it works like that? Maybe Tim knew too many spells or they just weren’t as used to working with each other as Tim and Shadow were or maybe something about Soves just didn’t click with Tim?

Soves gives him a condescending glare, so, okay, maybe that isn’t how it works.

_ As long as you’re there for him, you’ve done everything you can, _ Nick says. After all, cats are wonderfully strong and clever, but, in the end, cats are cats and humans are humans.

Some things never change.

After a moment of thought, Soves nods her head and pads away, pushing the door further open with a paw and sneaking out to roam the house.

Nick almost wishes he could follow her - late-night jaunts through halls are the best, and, as a cat-ixtal, he does have some characteristic cat traits like a sleep schedule consisting fully of naps. It would be too risky to travel far in the house, though.

Maybe just up and down the hall would be okay.

But first, a nap. This bed is insanely comfortable - it’s soft and plush and Nick knows it’s just meant to be temporary bedding, but gods does it feel good to sleep in his human form for perhaps the first time in almost a year. Even as a human, he tends to wake up in the middle of the night, fully alert and ready for working or hunting or running, but this bed might convince Nick to stay put. The futon isn’t springy like a real mattress, but it’s soft and thick and oh so cushy. It feels like a cloud compared to the grassy nest Nick usually sleeps on, and he’s quite certain he’s the best nest-maker of any ixtal in the city by now. Even the blankets of the bed are luxuriously plump with stuffing and layers. It’s whole and in amazing condition, patched up in a few spots with fabric just as gentle to the touch as the original, and Nick suppresses the urge to squee with joy at how wonderful it feels, wrapped around him like he’s inside a cloud. On top of that, the flowering plants on Tim’s windowsill seem to emanate a soothing smell that comforts Nick even more, and, just as he remembered, all Tim’s sheets have a faint scent of lavender, reminding Nick of how lovely it was to curl up in a cat-ball next to Tim on the bed, mussing up the sheets and flooding his senses with warmth and flowers and lo- ...nevermind. Tim’s room is comforting on a level deeper than touch and smell and sight, too. It just feels good and relaxing to be in Tim’s room with him, whether in the old days when Shadow could always ask for pets with just a meow or now as Nick turns in his bed to face Tim.

Sleeping in his own nest tomorrow will be hard after indulging in such comfortable bedding, but right now, Nick couldn’t care less. He snuggles deep into the futon despite the warmth of the summer night. After one last glance at Tim’s peaceful, sleeping face, Nick closes his eyes and burrows deeper into the cloud-like futon, and sleep overtakes him within minutes.

\---

His eyes pop open.

Where is he? A nest, in a snowdrift again, under a spare blanket that was handed out to him or stolen? Under his bridge? Somewhere better? Somewhere worse? Why can’t he move his hands, what’s holding them still, is he trapped, did someone take him-

Oh, it’s a blanket.

Oh, it’s Tim’s room!

Suddenly relieved, Nick takes a slow, deep breath to remind himself of where he is - in Tim’s home and room, cuddled up in a futon on the floor, practically swaddled in blankets whose utter warmth could make him swoon. He can only imagine how gorgeous the feeling of these blankets must be in the chilly winter months.

Still, for as wonderful and soft as the bed is, Nick’s midnight-restless cat side is kicking in.

He sighs.

Well, pacing up and down the hall won’t kill him, and it’s likely no one will notice at all. Soves is asleep, too - if worst comes to worst, Nick can just run away while pretending to be her.

Nick tosses the covers back just enough to squirm his feet out, then shifts in the blink of an eye and pries the door open to make space for his slim cat body to slip through. He hasn’t groomed himself in a while, so that’s the first order of business once he’s in the hall. Each lap against his fur sets another small bit to rights, brushing out a bit of dust that Nick scrunches up his nose at as well as asphalt grains on his paws that make Nick grimace at the bitter, chemical taste. A little discomfort is a small price to pay for cleanliness, though. Besides, there’s a water dish near the stairs with plenty of perfectly clean water, without even the mild rocky taste of the riverwater under the bridge. He laps some up to wash down the dust. From there, Nick returns to the hallway from whence he came, and his paws begin to pace restlessly, carrying him up and down and up the hallway again. Normally, he might try to catch some unsuspecting mouse or squirrel, but right now the only options for “prey” are all noisy toys that would surely get him caught, so Nick doesn’t bother. He’s quiet enough skittering up and down the hall, so long as he doesn’t actually run.

And then the door to Tim’s room creaks open, and Nick can feel the adrenaline surging through his veins.

“Sorry, Soves,” Tim murmurs, his hands outstretched to pet Nick’s back as Nick runs down the hall. At least he can’t recognise Nick’s cat-form in the dim hallway, lit only by a window at one end, though Nick’s heart is pounding and he knows if the moon were full Tim would easily have been able to tell the difference between his tabby stripes and Soves’s calico patches.

Quick thinking gets him into the bathroom. That will be his excuse - it’s good enough, so Nick turns on the tap and the lights and starts washing his hands in a rush, hoping Tim will accept his facade.

Blearily, Tim creaks the door the rest of the way open, letting the bathroom light pour into the hallway. He doesn’t say anything, just blinks and squints his eyes at the brightness. Honestly, he looks so sweet, perfect, sleepy and cute and all cuddly in his wrinkled shirt and rumpled jeans and messy hair with his adorably tired grey eyes. If Nick were a cat he would twine himself around Tim’s feet and purr the entire time.

He’s not a cat, so Nick settles for gently putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks quietly in the stillness of the night. Carefully, almost reverently, he swipes his thumb back and forth over Tim’s shoulder, hoping to soothe him back into drowsiness so he’ll be able to fall back asleep. “You look so tired, Tim,” he murmurs.

Tim makes a sleepy noise and lets Nick guide him back to his bedroom without any fuss, just sighing softly and leaning against Nick with a comfortable weight.

Gently, Nick gives Tim stability and support as he steps around the futon and falls into his bed. Nick tucks him in, brushing Tim’s shoulder lightly. He looks so innocent.

If Nick ever hurt Tim, he could never forgive himself.

Then, with one last touch, swiping Tim’s hair to the side to keep it out of his eyes, Nick snuggles back into the futon.

Staying still won’t help him wind down at all, and he’s wide-awake, but clearly Tim became too worried after not seeing him there in the futon, so Nick had better stay put, if for nothing else but to reassure Tim and let him keep sleeping. He doesn’t truly sleep for much of the rest of the night. Instead, he lets his mind wander and dream and hope with all his might, and he stares at the ceiling until his bored eyes slip shut and he dozes off in the earliest hours of the morning.

\---

Yawning, Nick carefully stretches. The cream-coloured ceiling warns him he’s in Tim’s room, and Nick turns onto his side, wondering where Tim is and if he should get up now.

Ah, but Tim is still sleeping, curled up facing Nick, still with the blanket tucked around him, though it’s been mussed by Tim’s tossing and turning. Maybe a few more minutes of resting in the cottony comfort of this futon wouldn’t hurt. And maybe neither would watching Tim, absorbing every detail of Tim’s beauty and sweetness and the utterly gorgeous sight of him with his hair even messier than it was at midnight and the pastel-green blankets around him and his skilful hands holding a bunch of the blanket to his chest, all under a soft early-morning light.

Tim takes another breath, this one deeper - he must be waking up, and so Nick grabs his phone so as to seem busy while Tim shifts and rubs at his eyes and flops back down onto the bed with a sigh. “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Good morning,” Nick answers, voice softer than originally intended. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm,” says Tim. He sits up, still rubbing at his eyes. So, so, so so so cute. “How about you?” asks Tim, rapidly becoming much more alert, “was the futon okay? I know it’s not quite as springy as an actual mattress.”

“Oh, it was great, I slept really well.” Sometimes Nick forgets most people don’t live like him, viewing a futon as a luxury and a bed as even more rich comfort. “Here, I’ll get out of your way,” Nick murmurs, scooping up the futon and carrying it into the hall to fold while Tim changes his outfit. By the time Tim comes out of the room in a cute, plain blue top and black jeans with little scuffs on the hems from use, Nick has already folded up the futon into the same bundle he’d found it in. Together, they put it away in a bin in a closet, to keep moths and dust away, and leave the homely upstairs of the house for the shop on the ground floor.

“Do you like eggs?” Tim asks, still in that soft, sleepy voice. “I usually make breakfast, was gonna make mini-quiches today.”

“Sounds good,” Nick answers with a smile as the sun climbs higher, high enough to peek between buildings and send scattered rays into the kitchen. “Do you need help? I’ll help.”

With both of them working together, making breakfast is a breeze. Chopping spinach and tomatoes is easy enough to do, and the little quiche shells are pre-frozen from Tim, whose eye for efficiency is always on point, and beating eggs is a job simply done. What minimal work there is feels entirely enjoyable, hardly like work at all from how much a little smile sticks to Nick’s face. 

Once the mini-quiches are in a muffin pan and cooking in the oven, Nick and Tim settle down at their little back table, Nick with a cup of coffee and Tim with an herbal tea, something that smells flowery and sweet but not too sweet. Jus and Oskar come down the stairs after an hour or so, though the hour hardly seems that long when Nick is chatting with Tim and watching the clouds turn pink and orange and yellow with each minute of the ascending sun. Breakfast is soon done, and Nick makes sure to take small, measured bites to keep his hunger in check despite how good the eggs taste with bits of spinach and tomato and flaky crust. After the food has been eaten and he’s helped Tim with the dishes, Tim sends him on his way with the last three mini-quiches, and Nick tucks the paper bag of them in his hoodie pocket, keeping them safe and sound as he shifts and darts away along the route home.

The way is long, and offers him plenty of time to think about the night before. Jus’s offer is terribly tempting with how the night had been. Eating dinner with Tim, chatting with Tim as per usual, being able to hang out with Tim and then fall asleep in his room in the most comfortable bed he’s had in so long, tucking the sheets around Tim in the middle of the night, talking to him as soon as he woke up, eating breakfast with him… It felt amazing. Who wouldn’t want to do that again and again and again? 

Ah, but maybe Tim wouldn’t want that, or would rather go on a real date before, or just doesn’t like Nick that much. He likes Nick, that much is certain, but how much does he like Nick? Enough to wait, Nick supposes. So maybe Tim would want him to stay.

Having meandered a little on his way home, Nick finally arrives at the bridge, and he looks furtively around before padding lightly along the grass slope leading down to the stream the bridge crosses over. The quiches are still warm when he shifts back into his human form, and they make a good lunch. From there, Nick has nothing to do for the rest of the day but watch the birds pass by and a few trusting mice snag the crumbs from right beside him.

“Hey there!” chirps someone cheerily, as they usually do when greeting friends they haven’t seen in a long time. The noise breaks the peaceful silence Nick had enjoyed for so long, sending a bird and a mouse running from the bridge, and mentally, Nick braces himself for the how-have-you-beens and i-missed-you-so-muches.

And then the voice continues.

“Why are you sitting under the bridge?” the same person asks, loudly and clearly, voice nearly echoing against the metal and concrete of the bridge.

Nick’s head whips around to face the source of the sound. “Wh-what?!”

“Why are you sitting under the bridge?” asks a young man with a mess of dark brown hair, wide eyes and a pair of light brown bunny ears atop his head. “Can I sit with you?” he asks eagerly, making Nick wonder if he isn’t a young man but rather a boy. “Is it cool down there?”

“What- I guess? Huh?”

Who  _ is  _ this kid? “Oh, it’s cool!” he says, a chatterbox. “Hey Ashley, can I go-”

“Maaax,” chides an unseen voice in the disapproving tones of a mother or an older sister, “stop bothering the poor kid, leave him alone, we have to go home.”

“Aww, but it looks fun!” this Max whines. Nick can hear his footsteps along the side of the bridge, on the slope of dirt, and, sure enough, a pair of feet appear just within Nick’s sight. They’re brown-furred and pointed-toed, so considering the feet that look rabbit-y enough, the bunny ears on Max’s head aren’t just for show. He’s ixtal, or vastayan. Either way, Nick isn’t interested in having some naive bunny knowing where he lives or that he’s homeless. Rolling his eyes, Nick goes back to staring at the rushing stream under the bridge. Max will leave soon enough.

Just when Nick thinks Ashley might have been able to convince Max to leave with her, based on the rather loud back-and-forth they’re having just above the bridge, Max bounds the rest of the way down the short slope to get under the bridge next to Nick.

“Hi!” he chirps. “I’m Max. My sister Ashley is up there, she’s waiting but she said I can say hi and then we have to leave. Hi!”

“Hi,” Nick says back slowly and cautiously.

Max may look innocent, but who knows? Nick has heard stories of fellow ixtal being lured into a kidnapping by seemingly harmless ‘friends’.

Just when Nick is about to tell Max to leave after the pause in their words grows longer and longer, Ashley - Nick presumes - calls for Max, and so Max sighs.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. I’ll be back tomorrow!” he promises Nick.

Nick grumbles. Do the gods enjoy watching him suffer?

With a wave goodbye, Max bounds away and Nick watches him leave with wary eyes, hoping that at least he’ll have the rest of the day to himself, and, thankfully, he does. No duties to be done today, and he told Tim he wouldn’t be able to return that evening since he’d been there in the morning. Nick may have nothing in his life other than Tim, but no one likes a slacker. He’s used to pretending he’s busy, anyway.

Since he doesn’t have anything better to do, Nick resumes a project he’d begun a while ago, back when he’d first gotten to know Tim - braiding straw. Of course, he doesn’t have the same strong, healthy straw specially dried for the job that Tim has, but the grasses on the other side of the stream, next to the road as it runs along the woods, is tall enough that the stalks are about the right size for braiding. Ripping them off instead of making neat snips with scissors, Nick gathers enough to try a braid of his own. He has to call on memories of arts and crafts projects from many years ago in order to do so. In the end, a mangled braid emerges.

Nick sighs and tries again. It’s not like he has anything better to do right now. The mice are all hidden, since it’s the middle of the day, and in any case, Nick’s stomach is still contentedly full from the hearty lunch, so he can wait until dusk to hunt again. Braiding is easy enough once he gets the hang of it. More importantly, braiding gives his hands something to do so his mind can wander more at peace, and the work of it keeps Nick from getting worried and overanalysing things. Speaking of which, he didn’t take his meds that morning, did he, being gone from home and all that. Swiftly, Nick takes the requisite pill from its bottle in the nook above his nest, pops it in his mouth and swallows dry, and returns to his work, all in a short few moments.

The sun is shining. The stream is quick and cold today, and a few fish linger in the shallows. A light breeze rustles the branches of the trees nearby, and the tall grasses nearer still. Various voices ring out from the city, as well as the sounds of car tyres going over the bridge.

All in all, a good summer day.

When night falls, Nick shifts and finds an unsuspecting mouse for his dinner. He can smell the city trash on it, but at least if he’s a cat, it won’t make him sick, so he tears into it with the full force of his hunger. The bitter, acrid tang of its fur is nasty, nothing like the fresh and clean quiche he had that morning. Still, food is food.

As the night deepens, stars overhead appearing one by one and then in handfuls of sparkling pinpricks scattered over the sky, Nick curls up in his grassy nest, treading a few circles before he lies down to make it more comfortable. He tries to remember how the blankets of the futon had felt. Warm, and soft, and cuddly, and squishy, and-

An errant gust of cool wind strips away part of his warmth and that entire fantasy.

Nick does his best not to mind the bits of dried grass that poke into his fur. 

\---

In the morning, Nick goes for a hunt. Well- is it morning, or before morning? Suffice it to say he goes hunting before the sun arises, so he can be ready as soon as his prey start to stir. The fish in the stream have seemingly forgotten he eats them, too. Snagging one from the water as it feeds and enjoys the sun’s warmth is easy enough. He tears into it, savouring the clean-tasting flesh as best as he can. The memory of buttery pastry and eggs and vegetables drifts through his mind, but raw fish is a perfectly fine substitute as long as he picks around the plentiful bones in the meat.

After that, he shifts into his human form to take his medicine and then sit with his feet in the stream.

Not much else to do on this lovely morning other than sunbathe, groom himself, and distract himself until he can return to the shop and Tim’s side.

He’s rudely awoken from his human-form catnap by a foot thumping repetitively against the stream’s grassy shores.

“You’re back! Hi!” chirps the stupidly bright-eyed bunny ixtal.

Nick just blinks. “Who are you, again?”

“I’m Max! You’re the same person from yesterday, you didn’t tell me your name!” Max says just as brightly. Clearly he doesn’t realise Nick kept his name a secret on purpose, and that Nick really doesn’t have time to keep a kid safe as he goes between working in the city and the suburbs and with Tim. “What’s your name?” Max chatters anyway.

With a glare, Nick flops back down onto the grass. Maybe if he pretends Max isn’t there, the little nuisance will go away.

As the silence drags on, Max quirks his head, watching Nick lounge. Nick can hear his footsteps inching forward until he peeks over Nick and blots out the warm sunlight, creating a chill strong enough to disturb Nick into opening his eyes. “Sorry. I’m Max, what’s your name?” Max asks, holding out his hand for a handshake.

For a moment, Nick wonders what the hell is wrong with this guy - then, he chides himself for his rudeness. Would it kill him to let Max know his name? “I’m Nick,” he answers at last as he stands up and brushes himself off before shaking hands with Max.

“Nice to meet you!” Max chirps, seemingly as an afterthought because he’s onto the next topic with his next breath. “Do you ever hit your head on the top of this?” he asks, his words in a rush as he bounds over to the bridge, the segment Nick has made his humble home in. “I keep hitting my ears because I forget to leave them down.”

Looking up and following along, Nick realises that Max’s ears make him tall enough to brush the bridge overhead, though Max now leaves his long ears down. It’s not like the bridge is tall. Even on these lower slopes, close to the stream, Nick can touch the bridge just by lifting his hand. “No, I never hit my head,” he says, perhaps fibbing a little, “I actually watch out.” When he’s a cat, he’s too small to reach the bridge’s underbelly at all. Not like Nick has tried - he might pull out a claw if it were to snag on a rough spot or piece of metal.

“Oh,” says Max simply. He flops his ears up and down and giggles. “Hey, I’m taller than you!” Max chirps with a childlike smile.

“No, you’re not,” Nick answers, unamused, as he very clearly has to look down to meet Max’s eyes.

“Yes, I am,” Max giggles, looking up at his ears as they stretch out as high as they can reach above his head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?” Max giggles again.

Nick just rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have something better to do than mess around here all day?”

“Not really. Hey, do you think this is a nest?” Max asks, poking at Nick’s nest with his foot.

“I guess so,” says Nick with a shrug. Max probably thinks Nick just comes here for fun, not that he’s lived here for a year.

“Pretty big bird, then,” Max says, almost conversationally, like they’re talking about the weather or a mutual friend.

“It’s not for birds,” Nick answers plainly.

“How do you know?”

“There’s cat fur on it.”

“Ohh, you’re right,” Max says in a voice of understanding as he inspects the nest closer, pulling out bits of fur that make the nest soft and a few strands of long-dried grass.

“Don’t pick at it,” Nick grumbles. He only barely manages to restrain his tone of anger. “You’ll disturb whatever lives there.”

“Aw. Hey, where are you going?”

“Somewhere else.”

“Why? Oh, are you leaving?” Max asks, all in a rush as normal at this point.

“Yes, I’m going to a friend’s house. If you mess up anything while I’m gone, put it back where you found it.”

“Oh. Okay. Bye!” chirps the bunny with a wave and a broad smile that makes Nick sigh internally.

“Bye,” Nick answers, already on his way away.

\---

If Max were a kid on the streets, he would never be so friendly, or trusting, or sweet and kind.

It’s good that he has a good home, if the love he gets from his sister is as unconditional as it sounds. Must be nice to have a good home and a good family, thinks Nick as he takes a hurried trip across town to Tim, becoming an unnoticeable cat and enjoying the smells of lilies and trees and hedges and hot food and all sorts of sweet perfumes in the shopping district and rich, delicious food near the restaurants. There are almost as many familiars as witches in the richer districts, and elsewhere witch and familiar part to go to work. Still many more people are ixtal or vastayan or elf or vampire or fae, hurriedly darting from place to place. Nick takes a shortcut that spits him out on a uni campus, where he dodges between all manner of magical beings on his way to the next shortcut’s opening at the base of a tree, in a hollow he dives into and emerges from a few short blocks from King’s Crown.

With ease and swiftness, Nick shifts into his human form after a check to see if anyone he knows is around. He yawns - ordinarily he takes a quick catnap before heading to the shop, but alas, no such time could be found today. Oh well. He shall go on. A rustling of wind through the two trees at the storefront leans their branches down to brush against Nick’s shoulders like a soft reassurance from a friend and the ivy leaves touch his knees as he walks by, and Nick can’t help but smile.

“How have you been?” Tim asks, catching Nick as soon as he enters the shop and grabs his apron and hat from near the kitchen.

“Good, good.” He didn’t get to eat this morning, but Tim doesn’t need to know that. “Made a new friend, I think,” Nick says. He follows Tim into the garden with his own basket - there are tomatoes and plenty of berries to be picked today, and they’ll probably make tomato pickles with how many there are. Tim already has a basket full of them sitting on the porch swing, and from the looks of it, there are a few more cherry tomatoes waiting on the vines.

“Oh? What’s their name?” Tim says in that same quiet voice, just loud enough for Nick to hear and not anyone else as they work side by side, Nick plucking a few dead leaves and fresh berries from the juniper hedge and Tim scattering powdered eggshells and rich compost over the raspberry bushes.

“Max,” Nick answers. “Some hyperactive kid who saw me trimming hedges and wanted to talk.” It’s a little fib, nothing more. Normal adults don’t hang out under bridges, so… best to keep that part of his life in respectful silence.

Tim hums a little song between chatting and gardening. “How old is he?” he asks once the hum-song has found its pausing point. “Ten, eleven?”

“Mentally, yeah,” Nick jokes. Max had been insanely, peculiarly childish, after all, and from what Nick can tell, his sister looks after him. “But he said he’s 22.”

“Oh, pretty close to us, then.”

“You wouldn’t know by looking at him.” Nick chuckles and shakes his head, snipping off more of the purble-black berries. These will be dried for use in potions and flavourings and soups, according to Tim, but Nick mostly just knows how to harvest them, not use them with magic and food. “He’s bunny ixtal,” Nick adds.

“Oh, that’s cool!”

As it usually does, a break in conversation fills the spaces between their words. Whenever they talk, there’s usually a lot of space unless one of them is terribly eager to share something. It’s nice to work in the quietness with a breeze flowing over their heads and the chatter of the city in the background - the silence isn’t awkward, but rather comfortable. In between their meaningful words, there’s always plenty of time for minor chats about gardening or harvesting or plants, too, or a story from Tim about gods and goddesses, the ones he’s been teaching Nick about bit by bit, the ones Nick forgot existed with names and meanings and lives and histories. Nowadays he’s learning more than he can ever remember from school. Though, he does pay much more attention to Tim than he did to his teachers back in the day.

“Enough about me,” Nick says softly, “how are you doing?” Soves’s bond had only failed two days ago, still, and the memory is probably still sharp and fresh in Tim’s mind.

“Yeah, I’m… holding up okay,” Tim answers in a voice just as quiet. His hands stop their work as Nick watches, but Tim still turns to him with a smile and a little nudge to his side. “Gonna do a grief ritual tonight and then burn some paper, so that should help a bit. Wanna stay for that?”

“Sure,” Nick says, and there was never a doubt in his mind that he would say yes. “When?”

“I was thinking right before the shop closes. I’m not usually doing anything then, anyway, so we have some free time.”

“Sounds good to me.”

So they garden together, taking care of the plants as their shadows lengthen. A few clouds drift by, cooling the air, and, as it starts to rain, Nick and Tim giggle and grab their baskets and hats and hurry inside, taking refuge in the kitchen while the clouds sprinkle rain over the city. It’s soft and light. The stream under the bridge back home probably enjoys it, and will swell with the extra water. The grasses, too, and the forest… Rain is so nice, it always smells good and fresh and sweet, even when tainted by runoff from concrete and the city. Together, Nick and Tim spend a few minutes just staring out of the kitchen window, watching drops of water run down the windowpane. Tim leans against Nick, his shoulder warm on Nick’s shoulder and his side pressed to Nick’s, making little tingles run up and down Nick’s body. Nick catches Tim looking at him a few times, and he returns the cute little blush and smile with one of his own. It’s nice to watch the rain with so much warmth at his side.

“Oh, you’re still wearing the sachet,” Tim murmurs, his hand coming up to touch the little bag of herbs hanging around Nick’s neck. Nick can feel his face flush pink as Tim leans in to examine the satchel, his fingers tracing over the seam and gently feeling the now-dried blueberry leaf and basil and holly. “I should make you a new one, the herbs in these lose magic pretty quickly.”

“Oh, okay,” Nick answers just as quietly. 

Carefully, Tim unties the sachet from Nick’s neck and pries open the little drawstring bag. “Actually, I have some…” he trails off, mind whirring as he falls silent and bustles off into the pantry.

Nick just chuckles. Tim is so, so cute when he’s caught up in his work like this, so comfortable with Nick’s presence that he slips into full witch mode, whether it’s fixing the tiered planter or carrying water to all his plants with magic or creating the perfect blend of herbs. As Nick’s eyes remain fixed to Tim, his garden witch removes the old leaves from the sachet. Tim had brought two jars back with him from the pantry, one of dried roses and the other with basil leaves, and he puts one of each into the sachet.

Nick knows these plants’ meanings.

Love.

Healing.

Protection.

Maybe Tim wouldn’t mind Nick staying with him, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, got a little late there :/ but we're back on track now!  
> uni is starting soon for me... hopefully it doesnt set the schedule back o_o  
> i hope you liked this chapter, let me know what you thought ^^
> 
> **small important note: the ages of characters in this fic aren't 100% canon! since crownie and selfmade and nemesis have all been aged up to make owning a business more realistic, and other characters have had their ages slightly adjusted
> 
> and again check out [this document](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qd6l89vHBcsfqecW3Bbo6UoYFS3L59I1iE3l-Qn69YI/edit?usp=sharing) for updates on my works in progress ^^


	13. Strawberry Shortcake

“How’s it going with Nick?”

Well, gee, if his friends could shut up about his crush for one minute, maybe Tim wouldn’t be so tired of answering that question. “Fine,” he says with a grumble, going about his business and emptying his basket of strawberries into a bowl for syrup-making.

“No, seriously,” Oskar says, “how’s it going with Nick? Getting closer? Like him enough to live with him?”

Now that’s a question that actually merits thought and attention. “I like him a lot,” Tim says as his hands light the stovetop fire and add a bit of water to the berries in the pot. “Would have to start dating and then move out to live with him, though, so that’s a ways off.”

Thoughtfully, Oskar hums and nods.

He walks off again, back to the shop and Jus’s side, leaving Tim with a confused quirk in his brow. “Hey,” Tim calls, rushing to the door of the kitchen even though the shop has a few people in it who will hear what he says, “why’d you ask?”

“No reason,” Oskar answers, a sly smile on his face.

Tim rolls his eyes and retreats into the kitchen once more, pushing the door so it’s shut but not latched. Oskar or Jus can easily push it open if they need to get into the kitchen again, but for now Tim would like some privacy to work in peace.

He chops the strawberries - all by hand, not like Jus, who can use his magic to manipulate cooking utensils and be more efficient in the kitchen - then stirs them in a pot with sugar and honey, a few spoonfuls of water and of fresh lemon juice. With a flick of the wrist, the gas stove turns on, and Tim snaps his fingers with a little spell under his breath.

In a ring of flames, the stovetop burner alights.

Tim smiles and puts the pot onto the burner, then sets a lid atop it and lets it heat through while he slices the last of the strawberries into pieces for decorating cakes. That reminds him, he needs to make the batter for a cake, too, so he grabs some eggs and measures out the flour and sugar and separates the egg whites with his hands, putting them in the stand mixer to whip.

Bit by bit he makes cake batter, then pours it into two circular pans and sets them in the oven to bake while he stirs the syrup and mashes up the strawberries. Frosting comes next, but Tim always likes his less sweet, so Jus will have to make it instead lest it not meet Jus’s standards. For now, Tim strains the strawberry syrup and sets out a cooling rack for the cakes.

Actually, the frosting recipe should be in the recipe book, no? Tim grabs its worn and weathered and stained binding, making sure to support the pages as he carefully sets it on the countertop and opens the book. A little puff of vanilla-smelling residual magic from Jus’s constant use floats into the air.

Crap, he forgot there’s supposed to be vanilla in the frosting. Lucky he decided to check.

Almost as though the book knows what he’s looking for, it flips open to the strawberry shortcake recipe, showing him the recipe for whipped cream frosting, and Tim finds and measures out cream and sugar and vanilla and a few drops of rosewater and orange essence for just the right touch of magic. With the cream in the newly-cleaned stand mixer, Tim saves the jam-like strawberries from the syrup in a separate jar, ready to be used as filling for the cake. Speaking of which, those cakes will take a little longer to bake through, so Tim rotates them in the oven and moves on to potion-making.

Soon enough, the cakes are done and cooled and the rounded top has been sliced off of one of them, and the whipped cream is also done and waiting in the stand mixer’s bowl, and one of their cake plates is ready with a dollop of frosting in the middle to keep the cake secured. Tim assembles it relatively quickly - he’s been doing this for so long, anyway, and, while he doesn’t have Jus’s natural touch, he knows what he’s doing - into a beautiful strawberry shortcake, decorated with the slices of strawberry on top and with a swirl of jam. He puts it into the fridge for now. It’ll be sold during the lunch and dinner rush.

Actually, Tim should remember to buy himself a slice if there’s any left after lunch. It would be a nice thing to share with Nick.

Today, there was no need to go to the markets. He has all he’ll need for the day in the garden and the kitchen, and there’s plentiful squash and tomatoes, so for lunch and dinner they really should be eating their own produce and not wasting it. After he makes the cake, in the time that it takes for the morning dew to dry from the plants so he won’t get his jeans all wet from walking through the garden, Tim heads back out.

Everything is as wonderful as he left it. There are some troubles with the garden spout today, and he needs to be very careful with the rainwater he’s collected in big rain barrels for his garden - the thunderstorm had filled them up fairly decently, but another drier spell is expected - and for some reason, the typically-tame nettles are acting up today and scratching at Tim’s jeans, but he gets a wrench to fix the garden spout and he uses his magic to ensure every drop of water is where he needs it to be and he grabs a pair of thorn-proof gloves to battle the nettles back into their corner. By lunchtime, he’s handled most everything in the garden and watered all the plants that need it today. A few summer squashes will make a good lunch when cut up and cooked with an egg and a few cherry tomatoes. Tim picks what he needs and goes back inside, avoiding the rush of late-lunch people grabbing coffees to get them through the rest of the day and a bite to eat alongside it.

After his quick lunch, Tim checks to make sure the cake has been set in the shop in their cute little display. Unsurprisingly, it’s about half-gone. The other half will likely be gone by the time he eats dinner.

He’s rather proud he made something so popular, even if all he did was follow Jus’s recipe, and with that sense of happiness, Tim returns to the kitchen to make more potions.

“Hi, Nick,” says someone in the distance - Jus, likely, or maybe Oskar? Quickly, Tim checks to make sure he doesn’t look too dishevelled from the day’s work so far. Ah, he had better fluff his hair again and make sure it looks okay and is his apron skewed or maybe his shirt collar or-

“Hello there!” Nick chirps, breaking Tim’s concentration and peeping his head in through the kitchen door a little while after lunch. “What are you up to today?”

“Oh, hey, you,” Tim giggles as Nick walks over to stand at his side. “Nothing much, just making potions. I made a cake today, so I can share a bit if you’d like some. It’s strawberry shortcake.”

Ever since Tim and Nick had gotten those baskets of fish and chips together at Lunasa, Tim has been making it a little bit of a personal mission to make sure Nick always gets a snack when they meet. Nick is so scrawny, he’s the kind of person Tim’s mum always says would blow away in a strong gust of wind, much like Tim himself, and, though it’s a silly and feeble way to show love, Tim still likes saving a sandwich from lunch or the last of the lemonade syrup for a drink for Nick. It’s so nice to share food with him.

“That sounds good,” Nick says with a sweet little smile. “What can I help with for the potions?”

Tim directs him towards the easy-enough task of crushing herbs with the mortar and pestle, and in the meantime Tim grabs some more herbs and sets a pot of carefully collected and filtered rainwater to boil and grabs the potion bottles and the rack of labelling ribbons.

“So- um,” Tim begins once they’re a decent ways into making potions. The cauldron is resting atop the stove, filled with the hot rainwater and steeping with dried almond blossoms and irises for wisdom potions. “So I know you said to wait a month or so, last time,” Tim stutters, taking the leap, “um. It’s been around a month, I think? So, um, would you want to- to go on a date at all?” Of course, it’s still very possible Nick will ask to wait a while longer, and of course Tim doesn’t mind, this time spent together is worth so much more than just a nice meal at a restaurant, and he would never pressure Nick.

When there’s a moment of silence, without even the light scrape of the ladle against the bottom of the cauldron, Tim sneaks a glance over at Nick, expecting the worse.

Instead, Nick has a vibrant blush on his face and a little, adorable smile, and Tim very nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

“I- um- y-yes,” Nick says, “just, uh, in a few weeks, I think. Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course!” Tim answers immediately. “And obviously take as much time as you need. I don’t mind.”

“I mean, I know I want to,” Nick says. “I know I wasn’t clear about that before, but I want to.” He nudges his hip against Tim’s gently, still slowly stirring the cauldron’s contents. “I just... I think I’ll be good in a few more weeks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tim says with a smile, and he does his very best to keep the bubbliness in his heart from spilling over, though a little giddy giggle slips out and Nick gives him a quick, side-armed hug for it that only makes Tim giggle more.

\---

“Wow, that was fast.”

“What else is there to be done?” Nick asks helpfully, brushing off his knees as he stands up from where he had kneeled to help put potions on their rack outside to infuse in the sun.

“Nothing, really. Wanna share a piece of cake?”

“Sure,” says Nick with a giggle, and Tim can’t help but giggle back.

“Do anything fun this morning?” Tim asks over their slice of cake as they sit at their back table, with one fork for each of them and the cake sitting prettily on a plate in the middle of the table between them. He spears the first bite of cake, making sure to get a piece with lots of jam and whipped cream. The smell of the milk will probably attract Soves any minute now - at least she and Nick seem to be on better terms.

“Hmm, not really,” Nick says with a shrug, scooping up his own bite of cake, and his eyes light up as he eats it, warming Tim’s heart. “Talked to Max again, I think he’s either bored or very friendly.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Does he help you with stuff, or...?”

“No way,” Nick says firmly. “He’s so clueless. It’s cute in a little-brother way, you know?” he addds off-handedly. “Sometimes he grabs one of the shears to look at and I’m almost certain he’ll cut open his palm.”

“Oh, I guess so,” Tim says with a little chuckle. It’s taken a while for Nick to fully open up to him, it seems - Tim hadn’t know anything about Nick’s friends until today, just a few moments ago. It’s nice to listen to him talk.

“Do you have siblings?” Nick asks after a short while of eating quietly as the rest of the shop chatters on, full of bustling consumers and one lazy cat that has poked her head up from where she lies in the sun to watch Tim eating his cake.

“Only an older brother,” Tim answers, thinking fondly of his brother while Soves pads closer. He’d watched the magic duelling tournament only a few days ago - unfortunately, his dear brother had lost, but the smile on his face looked exhilarated enough to make up for the sadness. “What about you?”

“I don’t,” Nick says simply. “I was an only child.”

Quietly, Tim hums and scoops up another bite of cake and gives Soves a head-rub in greeting. The taste is good - maybe a bit too sweet for his liking, personally, but he’s always preferred sweet fruits and chocolate over sweet pastries and baked goods. Learning more about Nick is always fun - really, Tim should ask silly questions more often, no?

“Cake or frosting?” Tim asks randomly, as Soves grows disinterested and stalks back to her warm spot.

“Huh?”

“Do you like the cake part or the frosting part better?” Tim clarifies. “I kind of like frosting more, personally.”

“Really? I’ve always liked cake,” Nick says, and, true to nature, his fork cuts off another bite at the pointed end of the slice, where the whipped cream is more sparse.

Tim hums and takes a piece from the other end with lots of cream and strawberries. “What about icecream, what kind of icecream do you like?” he asks, careful to cover his mouth while he speaks.

“Cookie dough,” Nick answers easily. “You?”

“Oh, I like cookie dough too!” Isn’t that just perfect? Tim can already picture them sharing a pint of icecream together, snuggling with a movie or nothing at all, and Nick’s fond giggle might indicate he feels the same way.

They dissolve into a few more rounds of random questions, from chocolate type to favourite song to old videogames it turns out they both used to play to childhood sports and games, and Tim loves every moment of learning about Nick. Again, Nick asks him if he’s okay, and, for the first time since Soves’s bonding failed, Tim thinks he really, truly is. They talk about that, too, just for a little bit, while they watch Soves sunning on a chair, comfortable and regally lazy in a front corner of the shop. A few customers even pet her or give her ear-scritches on their ways out, and she looks happier, too. Once the shared slice of cake is gone, though, it’s back to the garden for them, and Tim and Nick continue the harvesting that never seems to end in these late-summer days. Bit by bit, they reap the rewards of their hard work from the well-tended plants, which bear fruit and vegetables plentifully.

As the day draws to an end and sunlight begins to filter through buildings instead of shining directly down on the garden, Tim rests his basket against his hip with a soft, proud sigh. “Finished with the squashes?” he asks as Nick stands up from the zucchini plant and holds up a basket of assorted squash and peppers as he carefully picks his way through the garden’s plentiful plants.

“Yep, got them all,” Nick says with a tired smile, the kind that can only come from a job well done. As he walks back to Tim’s side, a few plants and blades of grass whine at the slight bruising their leaves receive under Nick’s footsteps - they’re not quite yet used to normal people, who can’t magically slip their feet into the perfect spots in the soil to avoid even the slightest harm to plants. At least the majority are very accepting of Nick’s tiny mishaps. Only the tender mosses make a fuss, and that’s mostly because they’re young and whiny as it is.

“Okay, cool. We can just wash them and leave them in the basket for Jus,” Tim says. He opens the door for Nick, so Nick doesn’t have to set the basket down, and they ignore the handful of teachers grabbing espressos for their essay-grading, though Indiana and Daniel do wave at him and Tim politely waves back.

With the baskets on the countertop, Tim and Nick settle into a rhythm at the sink of Tim rinsing each vegetable clean and Nick gently patting it dry. Working with Nick almost reminds Tim of having Dracarys help him, in a way - she was always ready with a helping paw and a swirl of magic. Perhaps Tim’s closeness to Nick is simply a function of their constant coworking, though, and not symbolic of any sort of magical link. Such bond types aren’t possible between humans, anyway, so while Tim truly does like Nick a lot, they’ll likely simply be dating for a long time. Either way, Tim enjoys Nick’s company. They pass the time on random little comments, about the birds flying by or a particularly loud speaker on a child’s backpack that can be heard through the open window or the weather, which Tim would find awkward to discuss with anyone but Nick for how mundane it is. The vegetables are clean and ready for Jus to cook as he pleases before Tim even realises.

“That’s pretty much all I had for today,” Tim says softly, once their washing and drying rags are hung along the window’s clothesline to dry. “When do you need to go?”

“I have about thirty more minutes,” Nick answers after checking his phone.

“Upstairs?” Tim suggests, hoping he doesn’t come across as too forward or aggressive. Nick did turn him down again only yesterday, but if they’re getting very close to being together, then Tim has even more pressure upon him to perfectly skirt the line between flirty and overbearing. “I can teach you some more magic, if you want.”

“That sounds great!”

They hurry upstairs to Tim’s room and sit on the bed, both of them eager to begin wielding magic.

“Can you do the light one on your own?”

“Yes, I think so. I was practising at home a little bit. So- _lumia azuris,”_ says Nick, holding up one hand with a pinprick of blue light that grows into a marble-sized orb. “And _lumia verdana,”_ Nick continues, holding up his other hand with that same light but in a vibrant, lively green.

Tim stares in awe for a moment before his face breaks into a smile. “That’s great!” he chirps giddily, “you’re doing so well!”

With a little, adorable, bashful giggle, Nick giggles. He flicks his wrists and the magical light dissolves into mere sparks that fade like stars as the sun rises. “So, what are we learning today?” he asks, his eyes so pretty and brown with hints of green shimmering, as though the sparkling magic has made its way into his body.

“Another light spell, I think,” Tim says. “Light spells are easiest for most people, and they’re hard to hurt people with, so they’re taught a lot in school.”

As they sit on Tim’s bed facing each other, Nick thoughtfully nods, his pretty eyes watching Tim all the while.

“This one can be used to light up a full room or darken it. The way you do it is... so, picture the room in the level of brightness you want - it can be dim or dark or bright, but the farther you deviate from the current lighting, the harder it is. And then you say: _iluminari.”_ Around them, Tim’s once-dark room brightens with midday light despite the early-evening atmosphere, and Tim watches with a blend of pride and fondness as Nick looks around the room as if to ensure there are no lights around, just pure magic.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs softly.

“Yes, that’s one of my favourite ones for a show. Pretty much everyone can do light spells easily, so it’s not an achievement or anything, but they’re cool to see.” Bit by bit, Tim soaks his magic back in from the room, letting it pool in his palms and dissolve back into him the way his spells always do when he’s ending a spell. “Okay, do you think you can try? Or do you want me to help you?” Tim offers, holding out his hands both for the magic’s sake and for the sake of romance.

Without question, Nick sets his hands in Tim’s, and he shuts his eyes to picture the room and then- _“Iluminari,”_ Nick says firmly.

The room brightens by perhaps three minutes’ worth of early-morning sunlight, but it’s clearly not enough to be a fully proficient spell. Maybe because Tim was a little bit distracted and didn’t help Nick channel his magic entirely. “Hmm. Let’s try again?” Tim suggests.

 _“Iluminari,”_ Nick repeats, pushing his hands into Tim’s with a gentleness that still seems so heavy and monumental for Tim.

The warmth of Nick’s slim, sharp-boned hands in his almost distracts Tim from the lightness of the room, growing and glowing stronger each second until Tim’s bedroom is as bright as it is in the mid-morning sunlight, and Tim glances around with a smile on his face.

He turns back to Nick with that smile shining brighter - ah, but Nick is still closing his eyes, probably channelling more magic into the glow of the room even though he’s already illuminated it.

“Open your eyes,” Tim whispers, careful to not disturb Nick’s concentration.

Bit by bit, those beautiful, wide brown eyes open with flecks of green and a grin blossoms on Nick’s face upon seeing the room lit by his own magic. “Oh, that’s- that’s-” Nick’s words seem to fail him.

Tim just smiles.

After they’ve stared at the room, fully illuminated, for a few minutes, Nick slowly furls his fingertips back into his palm like petals of a flower closing at night, cutting off the magic without Tim even explaining to him how to do it. Such a reflex must be instinctual, a safety mechanism to prevent overexertion of Nick’s magic.

Nick smiles back at Tim. “Thank you for showing me how to do that,” he murmurs.

“You’re welcome,” Tim answers just as softly and sweetly. He sighs - oh, how embarrassing! - and quickly, hiding his blush, checks the time on his desktop clock.

Oh.

Following his gaze, Nick, too, notices the time. “Ah, I have to go,” he mumbles sadly.

“Well, see you tomorrow,” Tim answers with a smile.

“See you tomorrow,” Nick says in kind. Gently, he lifts his hands away from Tim’s and lets Tim walk him to the door of the shop, with a quick hug at the top of the staircase, hidden from prying eyes.

Then, he is gone, and only his warmth lingers on Tim’s hands.

\---

With Nick gone and the shop closing for the night, Tim helps clean up dishes and set everything to rights. They have to mop the floors, today, and clean the doormats of the dust and grime they’ve accumulated over the week, and their own kitchen could also use a dusting, so Tim clears the way for the mop to dance through the room easily and supplies fresh water with just a little bit of soap. Cleaning is easy enough, he just wipes down the countertop to give Jus and Oskar a bit of a break while they prepare dinner - a simple salad, today.

Slowly but surely the shop and kitchen begin to shine with cleanliness and Tim thanks the mop for its work, then pours out the now-dirty water and restores the freshly-cleaned doormats to their rightful home in front of the doors. Stretching out his back, he returns to the kitchen ready for dinner.

And of course the first thing Jus does upon seeing him is ask him about Nick. “Oh, Tim, you’re okay with Nick moving in, right?” Jus says simply, like it’s something small and not at all surprising.

“He’s moving in?” Tim nearly squeaks in his excitement and sudden shock.

“Yeah, we’re hiring him to help you out in the garden. He’s already with you all the time, anyway,” Jus chuckles with a wink towards Tim, who glowers but cannot deny the blush flooding across his cheeks. As Oskar sets the table and Jus finishes tossing together a salad with squash and tomatoes and cucumbers and nuts and a handful of berries, Tim sits at his chair, resting his head in his palms as the warmth keeps coming to his face. “Dinner,” Jus announces. He puts the serving bowl of salad onto the centre of their table and watches with mild disgust as Oskar grabs a few handfuls of salad for his own bowl and liberally drenches it in ranch dressing.

“You’re nasty,” Tim says to Oskar.

Judging by the sheepish expression on his face and the way he grabs another handful of salad to spread the dressing out more thinly, Jus had communicated much the same sentiment through their mental connection.

“So...” Tim murmurs halfway through a mundane conversation about the cake they should make tomorrow, “Nick moving in? Do we have a spare room?”

“Attic,” Oskar says simply, through a mouthful of salad.

“It’s a bit dusty, no?” What if Nick has allergies? Tim would hate for him to be uncomfortable.

“That’s why we’re cleaning it this weekend,” Jus says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, even though he most certainly did not tell Tim they were cleaning the attic this weekend.

Tim hums and digs into his salad, eating bite after bite of fresh lettuce with tomatoes and cucumbers and strawberry scraps and almonds and orange segments as he thinks. Living with Nick will obviously be great - he’ll have his crush around so often, they’re almost guaranteed to grow close. At the same time, making sure Nick is comfortable is his number one priority. Home is a workplace, now. It always has been, but Tim should keep that in mind. Maybe it would be wise to ease up on the flirty moments where they steal berries out of each other’s baskets and go back to relying on having quiet moments together, where each other’s company is what makes the time enjoyable.

“I told him he can move in after the attic is cleaned up, but maybe he’ll stay a night or two before then, who knows,” Jus says between crunching on his salad.

“Do we have an extra bed?” asks Tim with a curious quirk in his brow.

Jus shrugs. “Just the futon,” he says, “so we’ll have to put a mat down on the attic floor to prevent splinters, but it should be fine. Seb isn’t visiting for Christmas, is he?”

Tim shakes his head, no, though his dear brother does have a habit of poorly announcing his arrival and will frequently show up without any prior warning in summer.

“Okay, we’ll have plenty of time to see if we need another bed, then.”

If?

Now that’s an implication that makes Tim blush red, and today he can’t even stick his face over a bowl of soup or hot food to act as though it’s simply the heat making his cheeks warm rather than the thought of dating Nick.

Jus chuckles and shovels another bite of salad into his mouth, and soon enough all three of them have finished their meal and Jus has tucked away the leftovers into the kitchen refrigerator. It’ll make a good lunch for at least one of them tomorrow. For now, Tim snags a muffin from the shop counter, marks it down next to the tally for today’s cake on the sticky note on the wall with their purchases for the month, and carries it off to his room, where he delights in the fluffy, sugar-crisp, strudel-topped blueberry muffin as he fires up his world-weary laptop to check more duelling results. Some part of him never grew out of anxiously checking his brother’s and his brother’s friends’ results, whether they won or lost and how close it was. Thankfully all five matches that he checks ended in a win for his personally preferred competitors.

He doesn’t have much to do after that, no plans for straw-weaving or sigil-drawing or charm-making tonight. Or at least none important. Instead, he takes out the trash from his room, sets the bin back to rights next to his desk, and proceeds to the attic, unlatching the ceiling door at the top of the stairs they use mainly for holding Jus’s decorations and candles and books.

It isn’t as though the attic is never used. Tim’s brother sleeps here whenever he visits, and there’s good lighting and ventilation, enough that with a good coat of paint and a new varnish on the wooden flooring, the attic would be a very cute room. As it stands, the floor is clean but dull and dingy, prone to splinters and scratches. The walls are properly sided, with insulation and drywall, but the old wallpaper on them is peeled off in more places than it remains. There’s a layer of dust on most things, and a variety of gardening supplies and spare kitchen supplies and textbooks from uni and an old vacuum no one had ever bothered to throw away. Tim starts all his seedlings up here, in the late weeks of winter, under the light of a series of large grow-lamps, and the setup is in the way of any further movement into the attic. It would seem that Tim didn’t clean up so well after himself this time.

Well, nothing to it but to do it.

He doesn’t do too much - even just reorganising the stuff they have, while there isn’t obscene amounts of it, is hard. Still, Tim manages to get everything into neat rows on one side of the attic, with more than enough room for a sleeping area and a desk and a mirror and a wardrobe on the other side. It’s a cosy space when the overhead lights are on. It would be even cosier with a lamp and a futon and extra blankets, when the dust is cleaned up, of course.

It would be cosiest with a companion and a starry night sky and winter snows outside and the warmth of each other within blankets as they look out of the big, pretty windows.

Tim holds onto that very nice daydream with all his heart.

\---

More lovely art, featuring Max Waldo and Tim! Thanks to @hannivanillie as always <3


	14. Blueberry Lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a normal, lazy day for Nick, with some work but much more time spent simply relaxing.
> 
> And then it decidedly is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, we're back! enjoy this chapter - it's the longest one so far!

The sun is warm, and so is the soft earth under Nick’s feet, but neither burns its heat into him so sweetly as Tim’s side against his.

They’re snuggled - okay, not quite snuggled, but leaning against each other - on the porch swing in a lazy afternoon, the late-summer, early-fall heat and sunlight pouring down on them comfortably. It fills the silence with a golden sort of happiness haze. They chat a little bit as the tips of Nick’s toes push them along in the swing, but more often than not, the soft breeze takes over and soothes them both into silence once again. He has a drink - blueberry lemonade, an unusual concoction with the last of the homemade blueberry syrup and a little lemon in sparkling water. Tim has his own drink, a cool tea with a touch of honey and herbs over ice. But the most important part of this moment is Tim’s head on Nick’s shoulder.

Maybe snuggling really was a better word? Tim’s hands are neatly in his lap, as are Nick’s, since wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders might seem a bit too flirtatious in the slow, peaceful limbo their relationship is in right now, and yet their sides are pressed so tightly together that the intimacy is about the same. Tim had started to slump a little just a few minutes ago. Nick can’t blame him; it’s sunny and warm outside, and the porch swing’s wooden slats are smooth and lovely to the touch. If Nick were a cat, he’d curl up on the sun-soaked wood and sleep the day away in a lazy, hazy state of mind. As it is, though, he ought to keep his wits about him.

Tim, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind being utterly comfortable around Nick at all. In fact, as his head starts to slump ever so slightly and he wraps an arm around Nick’s, Nick starts to wonder if maybe he’s fallen asleep.

“Tim,” he murmurs softly, leaning down to whisper against Tim’s cheek. “Are you sleeping?”

No answer but for the wind carrying a few giggly, distant laughs through the air around them.

Nick smiles and stares at the garden for a moment, too afraid to lay his eyes on Tim’s adorable sleeping face on his shoulder again lest he never manage to tear his eyes away.

Then, he reconsiders. Who will know if he takes this time to trace over every feature of Tim’s cuteness?

Unable to suppress a little smitten grin, Nick gazes at Tim’s sleepy smile and nonsensical, dreaming mumbles with nothing but love in his eyes.

Today had been a simple day - not much to do but care for a few plants whose flowers are blooming thanks to the cooler weather and rushing autumn winds, pouring through the sky and carrying the promise of reddened leaves and crisp apples and plentiful raspberries in the fall crop with them. The apples on their tree aren’t quite fully red and ripe, but they’re getting close, and the poppies and sunflowers and marigolds have begun to yield their seed pods. A few trays of seeds already sit in the kitchen next to the window, neatly divided by lines of raised tape, drying for storage and eventual replanting in the spring. Summer is truly turning to fall, now.

Nick is lucky he’ll have a home before the weather gets too harsh and cold. His winter coat is fluffing out, keeping him warm in his cat form with thick layers of fur, but even that is little help in the depths of winter, when he sleeps best on library steps or just inside the door if building-owners are kind enough to let him curl up in a corner. This year, though, he’s already spoken to Jus and Oskar, and he can move in as soon as tomorrow night, if he so wishes.

Before Tim had fallen asleep on his shoulder, Nick had told him about his decision to live and work at the shop, and Tim had happily approved, so Nick shall sleep in the warmth and comfort of a true home once more in just one day’s time.

Sadly, despite how adorable Tim looks as he sleeps and hugs Nick’s arm, Nick does eventually have to go back to the bridge, at least for now. Nick can only stay at the shop for so long since he isn’t living there yet, and tonight he has to help Jesper and Alfonso with their once-a-week hedge work. It’s nothing much, just trimming bushes at midnight, but still a job he has to prepare for and plan around, and so he sadly cannot spend all day staring at Tim, as much as he might like to. As gently as he can, Nick nudges Tim awake.

Blearily, Tim blinks at him and almost snuggles deeper into Nick’s chest before suddenly blushing pink and sitting up with blustered apologies and sheepish smiles. Oh, he’s so sweet. Nick helps him put away their cups and gives him a hug before leaving, and then he’s off into the world at large once more, where things hurt and get eaten and kill and devour and nothing is quite nearly so idyllic as life in the little shop, at Tim’s side.

Jus had mentioned a room upstairs that will be cleaned out tomorrow or in the next two days. Nick will simply sleep on Tim’s floor in the meantime. Though it may sound uncomfortable, such a thing is still pure bliss to Nick, even if he has no futon and naught but their thinnest blanket. He would have a roof over his head, for one thing - all other comfort comes second to the comfort of knowing you’re in a safe place where nothing could possibly hurt you and where your closest friends are with you. And the gentle, loving aura Tim seems to exude in full force would soothe away any further aches or pains Nick might have. Who cares if he gets cricks in his back from sleeping directly on the hard floor when he’s comforted by the pure homeliness of Tim’s room? All the pain would melt away. And that’s assuming they don’t let him use the futon again; it’s likely that they’ll let him snuggle up in those thick, plush, wonderfully, luxurious sheets. They may be simple and plain, but they’re heavenly to Nick.

Tomorrow, Nick will begin to live with Jus and Oskar and Tim, and that thought sends an excitement swelling his heart that makes everything else pale in comparison, until he’s dashing through streets in his cat-form to get home and he barely notices where he goes, his paws leading him faithfully home. He has to nap before night falls and his work-day begins, but sleep is hard when his mind is so full. His soap and shampoo are already tucked neatly in a plastic bag for moving, and his spare clothes have been folded and put into a ratty old luggage he’s kept ever since moving to this continent. 

The excitement makes his paws kick in his bed as he tries to rest.

With a sigh, Nick heaves himself to his feet - well, you get the idea - and treads a few circles in his bed to help himself calm down, then curls up and basks in the evening light. Its warmth sends him to sleep after a few more minutes of his mind whirling wildly, and he dreams of Tim at his side again.

\---

The scampering sounds of a rabbit’s paws over the silt and gravel by the river’s edge wakes Nick up, his hunting instincts fully activated. It must not have seen him yet, in the shadowy corner with grass nestled around him and the wind carrying his scent away.

Perfect. An easy meal.

As the rabbit drinks from the stream, Nick prowls cautiously towards it, being sure to position himself downwind from his unsuspecting prey. The kill is quick, as merciful as Nick can make it, and he slinks off to a more sheltered location to eat without being spotted by a larger predator.

Usually, Nick shuts his human side off when eating and hunting - it’s a bit disturbing if he thinks too much about it. Today, though, something about his earlier excitement and how preoccupied his mind is with the joy of having a home and the dread of eventually having to leave it lets his humanity slip into his feral cat nature.

Something in him nudges, prods at his mind, points out that this rabbit’s stiff brown ears look an awful lot like Max’s.

That this bunny’s shade of fur looks an awful lot like Max’s fur.

That the way this bunny had twitched in his jaws is an awful lot like Max’s jittery habits.

Nick comforts himself with the knowledge that all ixtal have a reflex to become human if under attack, and thus this bunny could not possibly be an ixtal, and its fur is more tan than brown and really doesn’t look like Max at all, and Max has soft, floppy ears that can stand up and not ears that are perpetually stiff like wild rabbits.

Still, he finishes his meal with a somewhat nauseating feeling in his stomach. Hopefully Max is safe at home in a nice room and a nice bed, maybe playing a game or chatting with his sister or watching a fun show. As much as the silly bunny irritates him sometimes with how obviously immature and young he is, Nick still hopes Max is okay. 

He hasn’t truly had an ixtal friend in almost a decade, by now. It’s nice to have someone like him to talk to, even if that someone only comes by every few days. Nick makes a mental note to find some way to tell Max about his new absence, now that he’ll be living elsewhere.

\---

Work is a relatively easy thing for Nick to do. He’s been doing landscaping for many years, by now. Trimming hedges and pruning trees and establishing proper growth isn’t difficult for him at all. Jesper is a vampire, so he doesn’t even mind the unusual hours Nick does work at - in fact, Nick thinks Jesper rather enjoys interacting with Nick in the wee hours of the morning. They exchange small talk after the work has been done and Nick has been paid, and Nick is always sure to pick up his phone after charging it. He knows he’s much younger than both Jesper and Alfonso, who are at least a decade older than him. Perhaps they see him as less of a mere worker and more of a nephew of sorts. That would explain why Alfonso so frequently offers him food and why Jesper seems so willing to keep up contact.

As he always does when he starts the night, Nick allows his cat and human forms to meld, giving him better eyesight in the night while retaining mostly human characteristics. Only his wide brown-green eyes now having a slitted pupil rather than a circular one shows the difference he’s made to himself. From there, it’s an easy job.

Except tonight, there are people milling about.

Now, Nick is not normally a super-skittish cat. Yes, he distrusts people, and yes, he avoids them more often than not, and yes, he especially avoids them in the night, and yes, he is maybe perhaps a bit too wary for his own good. But normally, people approaching in the distance as he works doesn’t worry him at all, and instead just makes him shift sides of the hedges to be within Jesper and Alfonso’s property line rather than outside on the sidewalk.

This time, however, the three people are within ten meters when Nick notices them.

He dives under the hedge for cover - there’s a gap at the base of these, a nook he can hide in until the people are past, and so Nick falls into it with a gasp of relief.

And then he keeps falling just a second too long.

\---

Where is he?

He’s jumped into little gaps under hedges and in the sides of buildings before, but never into something so big as this, as he sees when he looks around - he’s just a cat, so of course a normal-sized space will feel unusually large, but this place seems cavernous. Carefully, Nick shifts back into his human form, hoping his eyes will adjust quickly. In the event that they don’t... _“Iluminar,”_ says Nick, trying out the spell he’d used that morning as he showered to light up the rock-walled room behind the waterfall. It had worked, then.

Now, trickles of light explode from his hands and trail along the floor beneath him. He can see that it’s level, but other than that the light dissipates. And- is that a gust of wind?

Nick turns his eyes skyward. There’s a smattering of lights, wavy and ethereal, but no moon, even though Nick knows he had worked by its full light only moments ago.

Then comes the soft sound of paws against smooth earth, drawing closer to him, and Nick prepares to shift and fight for his life.

Instead of a fearsome creature, though, a pure white cat prances out from the shadows, somehow drawing her own light down upon them, and she blinks at him sweetly. “Hi!” she chirps with a cat-grin.

“Who are you?” Nick stammers, stepping back carefully.

“I’m Yuumi,” the pale cat answers. “Welcome, hedge witch.”

Yuumi... that sounds familiar.

She sits at his feet and stares up at him, still with that feline smile, and, very slowly and awkwardly, Nick gives her a pat on the head. “Thank you!” she says. “Now c’mon, we have some new friends to meet!”

A book swoops in from nowhere, opening its pages, and Yuumi perches neatly on its edge as it continues to fly along. Humbly, blindly, bewilderedly, Nick follows.

\---

“Where are we?” he asks after they’ve walked for a while. He’s checked his phone for the time on more than a few occasions, but the screen displays no numbers, just his lock background of Tim with Soves, a picture Tim had asked him to take a while ago. The time isn’t even recorded in the upper corner when he unlocks it. Maybe it doesn’t work underground. Nick had never thought there would be such a system of tunnels beneath the city. Is this even a tunnel? He can’t see to either side of him, and Yuumi had chastised him for being disruptive after he first shone his phone’s flashlight around. Only a glimpse of grass had been caught, then. How does grass grow without sunlight? Yet as they keep walking, the world around them seems to lighten, and soon he can see faint stars overhead as they emerge into a space where a soft breeze rushes by, smelling of trees instead of plain rock.

“Oh!” Yuumi says with a jolt, “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot to tell you! We’re in the Spirit Realm.”

Dumbly, Nick blinks and keeps following Yuumi.

“Do you know what the Spirit Realm is?” she asks after a few moments of silence, as the stars shine brighter on them, though not in any pattern Nick recognises.

Nick shakes his head. “Not really,” he murmurs. He still can’t figure out where he knows Yuumi’s name from, and the only mention Nick has ever really heard of the Spirit Realm is from Tim’s mention of what hedge witches can do. Honestly, he’s pretty confused right now. “Can you take me back to the hedges?” he asks as politely as possible, “I had some work to do...”

“Oh, that can wait,” Yuumi says in her wheedly, singsong way. “Anyway! The Spirit Realm is where all you hedge witches come to play!”

“But I’ve never been here before,” Nick murmurs, still following the trail of sparkly blue magic behind Yuumi and her book.

Turning around, she gives him a look - a sarcastic, terribly playful, grumbly smile of disbelief. “Of course you have!” she giggles. “Come on, you think all those shortcuts are just tunnels for your convenience? That’s hedge-riding at its most modernly efficient! Speaking of fish...” she trails off into murmurs.

Nick just keeps following her as he desperately tries to process this sudden revelation. He can’t _really_ have been using magic all along, right? He’s only an ixtal, he’s never been taught magic besides ixtal studies, he could never afford the extra classes for other witching and he certainly couldn’t get to university to learn anything. Is he really some sort of witch without any of the training? Beyond that, how does his magic know what to do if he doesn’t? It isn’t like hunting, where his cat-friends taught him how to catch his own food. His parents certainly never taught him how to use the little gaps in the sides of buildings and at the bases of hollow trees and under certain hedges - that’s something he just noticed about the city, it’s not unique to him or a certain brand of magic. Is it?

But beyond that, who is this cat he’s following? She knows how to use the gaps, that much is clear, but so do some other cats Nick remembers. Not all of them do, but a few of the city’s wild cats and familiars use the tunnels and gaps, too. Nick has seen them do so. Is this Yuumi special in some way? Where does he know that name from?

Did Tim mention it?

Oh, gods. The knowledge hits him upside the head like a cuffing swipe in a catfight, and Nick nearly freezes in his tracks.

“You’re Yuumi. The cat goddess.”

“That’s me!” she says with a grin.

“How- wh- I- why are you here, with me?” Nick stammers, barely able to make sense of anything, “Don’t you have more important things to do?” And how is he able to talk to her? She’s a god, he’s a lowly ixtal! What’s going on?!

“Not really.” She shrugs and her book bounces her lightly, seeming almost flippant in response to Nick’s shock. “I’m not here always, but there’s plenty of us around. More than enough for all our dear people.”

“I still don’t understand,” Nick murmurs. “Where are we going?”

“To meet some other people who want to help you learn about hedge witching. Do you know Shyvana or Bard?” she asks, turning to him with a bright cat-smile, her ears flicking in the air happily.

Shyly, Nick shakes his head, no. Tim hasn’t mentioned those - he’s only mentioned Yuumi in passing because he leaves offerings for her in Soves’s name, and Soves herself occasionally puts a bite of her kibble in the little dish in front of the small book-and-cat figurine, tucked safely out of the way and yet with a clear presence in the nook between the porch swing and the rosebush.

“Oh, okay,” says Yuumi, seemingly not fazed in the least. “Well, Shyvana is like you! Except she’s a dragon ixtal. And Bard is the best hedge witch in the world, he can make portals anywhere and he’s super nice and he makes really good hot chocolate if you want to visit him in winter! He’s one of my favourites,” she chatters, “he even helped me find my witch when she got lost!”

“You lost your witch?” Nick asks gently. He’s never heard of this part of the lore - all he remembers is the part where Yuumi goes on a long journey with her book. Admittedly, he probably should have paid more attention when Tim was telling him those stories, but Nick got distracted by Tim’s smile as he usually does.

Yuumi giggles. “Only for a little bit,” she answers. “Right now she’s at home, and I’m here helping you! We’re almost to Shyvana’s place.”

Beneath his feet, Nick can feel the ground begin to slope up. He nearly stumbles on a root, or a rock, or maybe just a stick? It’s hard to tell in the darkness. If he were alone, Nick would again use his ixtal magic to make his eyes like those of a cat, to allow him to better see in the dark, but that’s an unusual adaptation of his own magic and it tends to be seen as shocking and uncouth in polite company, and Yuumi is of course polite company. Still, after the fourth or fifth time he trips, Yuumi gives him a weird look.

Then, her blue eyes fly open wide. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise you had your human eyes right now! I can try to light the way if you’d like? Or you can just, you know, half-shift if you’d prefer?”

“You don’t mind me half-shifting?” Nick clarifies, and Yuumi shakes her head, pointed ears swiveling with the extra input.

“Not at all,” she says. “Go right ahead.”

Nick lets his eyes shift and his ears and tail pop out as he walks, and with the extra visibility and the helpful sharp hearing he now has, he doesn’t trip at all on the various roots and stones that line their path. It looks almost like a hiking trail of some sort. Looking to the sides, he sees vast plains of tall grasses and a mountain in front of them, the one they’re climbing right now. What he had thought might simply be stars are, in some cases, torches along the mountainside, but the skies overhead are indeed scattered with stars galore, and yet not in the familiar patterns of Aurelion Sol’s constellation or the cloven hoof of Soraka, the one Tim had shown him at Lunasa.

As he watches the stars, some of them rotate and swirl, and then a massive snake-dragon-thing flies lazily by overhead, dragging the stars around itself like a blanket or a series of iron filaments around a magnet. Once the beast is far enough away from the stars, they return to their homes. The dragon keeps flying onward, beyond the edge of the horizon, gathering stars and letting them go with each slow twist it does in the sky.

“Did you see Aurelion Sol up there?” Yuumi asks gently.

Nick jolts. She’s waiting for him a few steps higher on the switchback on the mountain, and so Nick hurries to catch up. “Is that what that is?” he asks innocently, “I thought Aurelion Sol was just a constellation, not a living, breathing… dragon?”

“Well, in the world he’s just a constellation, but here he’s just as alive as the rest of us. We’re in the Spirit Realm, silly!” she answers with a giggle.

“Are all the gods and goddesses here?”

“Oh, yes,” Yuumi chirps, floating up the mountainside with ease while Nick, despite being decently fit, huffs a little bit, “that’s what the Spirit Realm is. We all live in different spots in it, and some of us travel. And hedge witches, like you-” -she nudges Nick’s shoulder with the edge of her book- “-can travel with portals to get from place to place inside the Spirit Realm. That’s what all the little tunnels under the city are, too. It’s quite useful for travel,” Yuumi adds with a smile. “Some engineers are even working in Piltover here to make a teleportation system so non-hedge-witches can use the Spirit Realm. Usually if you’re not a hedge witch, you have to be accompanied by one, or you’ll get lost and won’t be able to keep yourself in one place like how you are right now.”

Well, that was a lot. Nick’s mind whirrs and attempts desperately to make sense of everything - can he bring Tim here, maybe, one day, since he’ll be a witch and could keep Tim with him? Or teleportation, however that ends up working, is that something they want him to help with? Or just traveling? Does he need to do something to prove himself worthy of being taught such magic? In the end, he settles for one simple question. “Piltover?” Nick asks. He feels awfully stupid.

But, “oh,” Yuumi answers without even a pause, “that’s our biggest city! The duelling arenas are there, too. That’s one place you don’t have to be a hedge witch to visit.”

Nick has no idea what the duelling arenas are, either, but he’d rather not annoy Yuumi with question after useless question, so he presses his lips together in a flat line and keeps following Yuumi up a few more switchbacks in the trail. They’ve reached where the trail goes from starlit darkness to torchlit walkway. Perhaps this means they’re close to their destination. To be honest, Nick would quite enjoy that; he may be a creature of the night by habit but this amount of journeying and adventure is wearing him out, and he still has more work to do when he gets back to the world. Still, he follows Yuumi with a patient sort of weariness as they ascend the mountain. After a few more switchbacks, he sees it.

Warm, flickering light spilling from a cave.

Yuumi floats onward and Nick follows until they’re both just beyond the entrance to the cave. As per usual, Yuumi leads the way and Nick steps lightly after her around the corner to see who or what they’ve come here to see and-

Oh.

Oh, that is a dragon. That is an honest-to-the-gods dragon in front of Nick right now.

“Hey, Shyvana!” Yuumi chirps, floating nearer to the small campfire illuminating the cave while Nick stays frozen at the edge of the cave’s entrance. As Nick watches, Yuumi hops off her book and pokes Shyvana in the face. “Wake upppp, I finally got Nick to come with me!”

Sleepily, Shyvana opens one large, orange dragon-eye and rises to her four feet, looking first at Yuumi and then at Nick, who tenses up on reflex. With a whistling sort of roar, Shyvana shakes herself out and shifts into a human even faster than Nick can. It seems like he might almost have just been dreaming by how quickly she changes forms. Nick almost doubts she was ever a dragon, but the dragon-sized sleeping divot at the back of the cave serves as evidence even as she stands in front of him as an astonishingly tall, purple-skinned, red-tattooed woman with black hair and long, red horns and eyes that shine with fire and gold. “Well, hello there,” she says to Nick in a voice that reminds Nick of some sort of royalty, even though she doesn’t dress like it in a simple tunic of what looks like a combination of half-burnt animal skins and shed scales. She holds out a large, clawed hand. 

Nick steps into the cave and shakes her hand with as much confidence as he can muster.

Shyvana smiles down at him and pats his head with her purple, scaly-skinned hands. “I’m glad you’ve stayed on the world for so long, Nick,” she says simply. “Nidalee and Neeko and I worried about you. We’re glad you’re here.”

Blinking back the surge of tears that flood to his eyes at the gentle, loving, tender touch from this goddess who is practically a stranger, Nick quietly nods and mumbles a “thank you” as clearly as he can without choking on the lump in his throat. Unsurprisingly, Shyvana doesn’t seem to mind that he’s a bit emotional, and she ruffles his hair and cat-ears before stepping away slightly to stride out to the edge of the cave, where firelight meets starlight. Quietly, Nick follows her, staying a few paces back alongside Yuumi so he’s not in danger of falling from the cliff face outside the cave. Shyvana, on the other hands, steps out to the very edge. She, at least, could save herself if she fell. Nick has no doubt of that.

Standing there at the edge of the visible world, with only firelight behind her and starlight in front of her, Shyvana holds out her hand. Fire rises from her fingertips as though she has cast some sort of spell and yet not a single word leaves her lips - maybe that’s just how strong magic is, here, that channelling it is effortless, or maybe that’s just how strong she is - and as Nick watches in awe, the fire in her hands climbs and climbs like a vine through the air until there’s a pillar of flame spiralling tens of meters above them. The heat makes Nick’s face sweat, a bit.

And then Shyvana does something with the flame - it contracts, pulling itself upward into a bright ball high in the sky.

“Bard will be here soon,” Shyvana says to them, turning back towards their little campfire in the cave. “Make yourself at home.”

Nick watches as the ball of fire expands in a shock of light, then flares out, leaving only the faint scent of smoke and a haze against the stars in its trace.

Shyvana skewers a crisply-cooked piece of trout on her claws from over the fire and breaks it into pieces, handing one to Nick, who takes it only to hiss at how it scorches his fingertips. As though she’s just remembered Nick’s hands are soft and flesh and easily burned, she hands him a flat, cool, clean rock to put it on as he sits, and he eats the fish piece by piece, with small, quick bites, being careful to avoid the bones where he can and spit out the ones that he can’t. It’s not like he’s in a rush - whomever this Bard is will have to walk up the mountain, so though Shyvana says he’ll be arriving soon, it’s more likely that the process will take a few hours. Besides, the fish is hot to the touch and it burns in his mouth, so small bites are all he can take. Shyvana, on the other hand, holds her piece in her hands and scarfs it down, scales and bones and all, seemingly not caring in the slightest that it’s fresh from the fire and _hot,_ or that the bones crunch between her teeth audibly. As for Yuumi, she has her own little fish, a raw one, and she munches on it happily while her book rests at her side, its pages closed for now.

“You look quite happy with your ears out,” Shyvana comments. When Nick turns to look at her, she’s smiling at him softly, and Nick shamefully pats at his ears, quickly magicking them away.

“Oh- sorry,” he mumbles, “I know it’s not polite-”

“Who told you it’s impolite?” Shyvana’s eyes of fire and gold look harder, now, almost steely in their pointed curiosity.

“It was a long time ago…” Nick says, dropping her gaze to stare at his plate.

“It’s not impolite. It’s who you are, and it’s healthier for you.” Having finished her meal, Shyvana tosses the burnt remains of the trout’s skin into the fire, and it flares up, devouring the fatty skin with zeal, then licking at her fingertips. She smiles at it, somehow caressing the fire as it rubs against her hands happily. “Do you prefer not having your ears out?” she asks Nick.

“It’s just easier. Um. Not many people like it when I have my ears and tail out…” Nick murmurs sheepishly. “...yeah.”

“There will be many people who like you with your ears and tail very soon, Nick.”

The look in Shyvana’s eyes is firm yet understanding, and for once Nick thinks she’s truly right. “Thanks,” he answers with a little smile as he continues to pick out small, bone-free bites of fish.

“You need not thank me for the truth,” Shyvana says with a gentle smile. She pats Nick’s head once more, then stands again to add another log to the fire.

As she strides to a pile of wood in the corner, her head turns to face the cave’s entrance, and she chuckles as she rearranges the fire.

In the distance, a deep, ethereal, melodic horn sounds.

“Looks like our friend is here.”

There’s another sound, impossible to describe, full and rich and deep and yet unlike anything Nick has ever heard before, a sound between chimes and echoing horns, the kind of sound that might come from running your hands along stars like the keys of a piano, and a spot of light appears in the sky just off the edge of the cliff. Nick watches with wide eyes as the spot widens into a ring, a light-edged oval like a mirror, but with a golden shine inside and nothing at all visible in the reflection.

Then, a dark peg steps out, quickly followed by the rest of a large, somehow both monstrous and squishy figure, big and round and with an immense, snow-white, puffy beard and a circular face with a simple, unchanging expression.

“Hello, Bard,” says Shyvana with a friendly smile.

The entity turns to her, holding a massive horn balanced on its shoulder with its squishy-looking hands covered in rough, simply-stitched fabric, and it makes an ethereal warbling noise - from the horn on the back of its head? - as it nods back to her. Then, its face turns to Nick.

Meekly, Nick keeps his eyes fixed on the ground and puts his ears away as quickly as he can. After a few moments of silence, though, he looks up. “He would never hurt you, Nick,” Shyvana says gently.

Yet Bard is still staring back at him with that expressionless mask. Ordinarily it would be creepy and unnerving, but somehow, Nick doesn’t feel afraid of this god at all despite his unnatural size and shape and peculiar hands and face, and he draws closer to Bard so that both of them are standing at the entrance of the cave, with Shyvana and Yuumi watching them from the side. Slowly, gently, as though he doesn’t wish to startle Nick, Bard raises a hand and sets it atop Nick’s head.

One pat, two pats, three. He ruffles Nick’s hair.

And Nick understands.

Under the fond touch of Bard’s rough fingers, Nick lets his cat-ears re-emerge, and Bard lightly pats those, too. It feels like nothing could ever go wrong here, with this entity’s soothing, mystical presence in the area. Nick has never felt so at home as he does here, in this strange place with these strange gods and their strange magic.

As slowly as it had landed, Bard’s hand moves away from patting Nick on the head, and instead stretches out in front of him, palm-up, as though to offer something, but nothing is there. Nick looks up at Bard with a twist in his brow.

Bard’s head tilts downward ever so slightly, so Nick checks again, and- ah! “♬♫♩,” says a new little creature, with a body in the shape of a teardrop and a spherical head at the top. Its voice is just as otherworldly as Bard’s, though it comes in airy whispers rather than round, voluminous notes. 

“I see you’ve met the Meeps,” Shyvana says, startling Nick into glancing over at her. She, herself, has a few Meeps around her, bouncing around all herky-jerky like they’re puppets or playful children-creatures, even chasing Yuumi around Shyvana’s legs. “Hold out your hands,” Shyvana adds. “They won’t hurt you.”

With a curt nod of affirmation, Nick holds out his hands for the Meep to hop onto, and it bounces through the air over Nick’s hands, up his arm with a faint trail of golden sparkles, coming to a rest in Nick’s hands again after looping its path over Nick’s shoulders. “♪♬,” it whispers.

Bard warbles another series of resonant, flute-like notes. It feels like laughter rumbling through Nick’s chest, and Nick can’t help but smile with the Meep still in his hands. After it looks up at him for a while, Bard eventually hums a shorter, more tune-like phrase of sound. The Meep turns to look at him, then back at Nick, then floats ethereally through the air and lands on Bard’s shoulder, seeming quite at home with the spot. Again, Bard holds out his hand, a gesture for Nick to do the same.

Sparkling golden magic swirls into a little ball over Nick’s hand, and with it comes a small, wooden disc, laid neatly in Nick’s palm.

With a reverent touch, Nick picks it up and inspects it. It has a circle engraved into it, with three tiny holes, arranged just like Bard’s mask with the same curving lines etched on the wood. Bard taps it lightly, then, with the same deliberateness a conductor would use to motion a slowing of an orchestra’s tempo, he touches the little sachet still hanging around Nick’s neck, the one that still has Tim’s rose in it. After a glance at Bard for confirmation, Nick tucks the wooden charm into the sachet next to the rose.

“Put this in there as well,” Shyvana says, having retrieved a purple scale the size of Nick’s thumbnail from somewhere in the cave. “It’s a protection charm,” she adds. Nick handles it as though it is merely one mistake away from shattering into a thousand shiny, black-iridescent pieces as he tucks it into the sachet next to the wooden charm and the dried rose.

“Thank you,” Nick murmurs, bowing his head to Bard and Shyvana in turn and gratitude.

“You are always welcome, Nick,” Yuumi chirps, and Nick can’t hold back a little, joyful giggle.

“In the meantime, perhaps you had best return,” Shyvana says. “Time passes in the mortal world.” She nods to Bard, who warbles another collection of cosmic song and reaches into some sort of pocket, pulling out a ball of magic.

Nick watches in awe as Bard tucks the ball into his musical horn and the chimes on the horn protruding from the back of his head jangle. With a quiet _whooooom_ the ball flies from the horn and the horn still sounds as the ball lands with a splash against the cave wall, spreading out into that same golden-mirror portal Bard had arrived from.

Nick can feel it calling to him through the portal. Home. Or not home, but rather the mortal realm, the same place he left off in before those strangers startled him into falling through the earth into the Spirit Realm, and he steps closer to it, drawn in by that call.

“Um- I just…” Cautiously, Nick pushes a hand through the portal. “L-like this?”

Shyvana taps his head, and he shifts into a cat almost without realising it. Meekly, head swiveling at the bewildering size of the world when he’s a cat without realising it, Nick stares up at Bard, and the enormous, fluffy god scoops him up gently with large, soft hands.

“♫♩♪,” a new little meep murmurs, standing higher on Bard’s arms and looking at Nick with unblinking eyes.

When Nick turns back around to face the portal, it’s smaller, cat-sized. Carefully, Nick lines up for the jump.

For one terrifying moment, he feels nothing.

Then, the liquid warmth of the portal surrounds him, and Nick resurfaces under the same hedge he’d taken cover in earlier. Easing himself out of the divot underneath it, the hedge yields to him and lets him crawl out without any tangling fight.

Nick turns back to look at the shimmering golden portal, and as he watches, it shrinks like a puddle drying up.

Incredible.

With an awestruck sigh, Nick shifts back into his human form and looks back at the hedges. The work is the same as normal, just a bit more hurried, tonight - Nick can see Jesper typing away at his computer inside and eagerly working through the night, and Nick would hate to interrupt him in the middle of something important, so he only has about half an hour more to finish up the job, perfectly timed to coincide with one of Jesper’s frequent coffee breaks. But even as Nick works, he thinks.

Of course, there’s a lot to think about, like the items he’ll soon move into the shop with, and the new job he’ll be undertaking, and all the time he’ll spend with Tim, and all the precautions he’ll have to take to make sure his ixtal nature isn’t discovered by Tim. But now there’s also something else, a lingering thought in his head, something that might change him in a way that he’s not sure he can comprehend or predict right now.

Maybe he’s not so non-magical as he first thought.

Maybe there’s just as much magic in him as there is in anyone else.

\---

Shyvana art! 😍

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts on the spirit realm? ideas about what the charms might be for in the future? let me know in the comments below!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this one <3


	15. Lemon Poppyseed Muffins, Black Tea, Americano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim watches as his crush adapts to working around Jus and Oskar. Nick often acts as a messenger between the two, poking his head into Tim's garden for herbs and gathering supplies on his own, even. By the end of the day, he looks exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter yet at 7803 words... o___o  
> enjoy!

Tim is quite nearly of a mind to snip a leaf off the cherry tree after it pokes fun at him for the fifth time in as many minutes as he’s tended to it. Somehow the entire garden caught wind of Nick moving in. That’s not the surprising part, though; his garden seems to be able to figure out all sorts of things before Tim himself is able to, what with their whole network of connections across the city. What’s surprising is how utterly ruthless they are in using it to tease Tim.

Obviously, the jabs are never cruel, simply banter and teasing and fun. Still, the constant reminders of how Nick is moving in tonight -  _ tonight! _ \- certainly don’t help Tim focus. He rolls his eyes and embarrassingly, he can feel a flush rise to his face as he chides all the plants for being so unruly today.

Truly, though, he can’t blame them. He’s so excited, himself, that he feels like there’s enough magic and energy coursing through his body to make a growth spell strong enough to sprout tens of seedlings, when normally he can manage one or two a day during his winter head-start for his plants.

Nick is moving in, and Tim couldn’t be more giddy.

He’d gotten the text updates from Nick after Nick had told him in person about his moving-in and working there, with Tim formally this time rather than just helping out around the garden for a handful of hours each day. Of course, Nick will be going through shop training in the first week or so to ensure he’ll be able to help with everything they might need, but after that he’ll be free to work with Tim again, all day, every day. Nick had sent another text only a few hours ago telling Tim he’ll be there at 8pm sharp. Honestly, Tim can hardly wait to welcome Nick to their home - their home! He’s already finished organising the attic so there’s enough space for Nick to comfortably position the futon atop its futon stand alongside a small dresser Seb uses in the summer and a little table and a standing lamp and fan. Obviously, it’s not the most comfortable living conditions. Still, Tim hopes it’ll be enough for Nick, at least for now; Oskar keeps insinuating about a relationship between Tim and Nick, and at that point they’d be able to just share Tim’s room, but that’s not quite happening yet, at least for a little while more.

Tim’s phone buzzes in one of the many pockets of his gardening skirt. After a bit of fumbling to figure out where it is, Tim withdraws it from the pocket and eagerly sets down his trowel to view the texts and a cute picture of one of the strays by Nick’s house. It’s just a senseless message, a smiley face and a brief  _ “can’t wait to see you tonight!” _ but even such a small thing has Tim’s heart pounding and a foolish smile rising to his face.

He puts his phone back in his pocket before he gets too distracted. The raspberries need a bit of extra compost more than Tim really needs to look at Nick’s texts, in order to grow strong enough to bear the fall crop of raspberries without trouble, and so Tim resumes his work as the plants around him chatter.

When his work is done, Tim still doesn’t quite feel ready to go inside just yet. Instead, he lays down on the patch of grass between the hedges and trees, hidden by iris leaves. The iris flowers themselves have long faded, but the plants remain, and they make meaningless small talk with each other and the trees and the hedges as Tim relaxes in the tiny knoll that, once the perfect size for him alone, seems to still be expanding ever so slightly. Maybe he needs to take a look at the grass again, see if it’s leeching off other plants and killing them to make room for its own spread. All the surrounding foliage looks fine, but better safe than sorry. The hidden spot is very nearly big enough to accommodate two people, now, though both would have to lay on their sides to fit.

Around him, Tim’s garden continues its silent cacophony. Most of them keep talking to each other, spreading gossip from around the entire city, but one or two tease him, a few in a more chiding manner than just friendly banter. Of course, they’re a little worried about what, if anything, will change when Nick moves in. 

Will Tim spend less time with them? No, of course not, Tim answers.

Will Nick also take care of them? Yes, says Tim to them, he already has.

How will they speak to Nick if he can’t hear them? And to that point, Tim has no real answer. Some of the hedges mention they think they can get through to Nick’s mind. 

Perhaps that hedge witch blood Nick had talked about runs stronger in him than first anticipated.

Speaking of the hedges - they would make a perfect little snapshot of Tim’s day to send back to Nick, no? Quickly, Tim crawls out of his little hiding spot and snaps a photo of them, all shiny green leaves and strong, healthy branches, even more so than when simply under Tim’s care, and he sends the pic to Nick.  _ “They’re happy because of you :)”  _ he adds as a simple, yet hopefully-endearing, caption, and he hits send before he overthinks it and ends up sending nothing.

A few hours later, when the shop is closing and serving a last few early-waking nocturnal customers before locking up the place, Tim gets another adorable smiley-face from Nick in response to his text, and he can’t help but giggle at his phone, even over dinner, which is one of the worst possible choices to make when eating with your two best friends who also happen to be in love with each other and are overly excited to play matchmaker for you.

“Chatting to Nick, hmm?” Oskar teases with a very pointed wink. Jus’s little snicker makes Tim roll his eyes at both of them even as he takes another bite of his thick, creamy coconut chickpea curry, and a bowl of it waits atop the stove in the absent fire’s residual heat, waiting for Nick to arrive and eat. After all, he’ll be hungry after bringing his items across the city to their little shop.

“Shut up,” Tim says, shoving his phone back into his pocket and stuffing his face with more curry. “A’ leasht I’m not you two wif your nashty makeouts,” he grumbles through his food.

Jus blushes pink, which, to be honest, would indicate more decency than Tim had expected from Jus. “You walked in on us  _ one time,” _ he protests with giggles as loud as his words.

“One time too many,” Tim answers, voice much clearer now that he’s not speaking with his mouth full. “Lock your doors. Please,” he begs with a laugh. “Especially now that Nick is here.”

“Yeah, we learned our lesson after that time,” Oskar says reassuringly while also looking like the memory of Tim’s accidental interruption scars him to this day.

“Speaking of Nick,” Jus asks, “I forgot to ask for his number. Did he tell you when he’s gonna get here?”

“15 minutes,” Tim replies, and oh,  _ gods, _ now it hits Tim. Nick will be here in fifteen minutes to start living with him and honestly Tim has no idea if he’s fully prepared. His knees are bouncing beneath the table so badly that even Soves, despite her typically-aloof nature, has wandered over to twine reassuringly around his legs, and Tim pats her with hands that jitter from excitement.

Oskar gives him a little look as they finish up their dinners. “Nervous?” he asks as he and Tim clean the dishes, with Tim washing them and Oskar drying them and Jus taking a brief rest on the upstairs couch.

“No,” Tim lies.

Oskar’s gaze is unimpressed.

“Maybe a little,” Tim says, then, and that’s at least closer to the truth than his previous answer had been.

Quietly, Oskar chuckles and pats Tim’s back. “It’ll be fine,” Oskar reassures him, “you two are cute together.”

“That literally means nothing,” Tim retorts, rolling his eyes.

“It means we’ve done the scouting and we approve,” Jus calls from where he’s suddenly materialised in the shop to do some accounting, by the looks of his glasses and the pencil in his hand. “Anyway, we’re putting the futon in the attic for Nick, right? But he can’t sleep up there tonight because it’s not cleaned, so he’s sleeping in your room, Tim,” Jus says, leaving Tim wondering if that was a question or a declaration. Either way, he doesn’t mind having Nick in his room again; a repeat of the last time Nick stayed over wouldn’t be bad at all.

Tim nods, just to show he was paying attention, and goes back to rinsing the last few dishes off and putting them on the drying rack. “Come on, Oski,” Jus adds, “let’s go grab the blankets, okay? And Tim can wait for Nick at the door.”

Well, it’s not really a choice Tim gets a say in, as Oskar is whisked off upstairs and goes eagerly in his dog form, bounding up the stairs so fast he crashes into the wall as per usual - Tim can hear the thump of his body against the protective cushion they’d installed - and Tim settles down with his phone in the cosy nook with its back to the window by the door. He sits sideways in the chair, with his legs draped over one of the arms and his head resting against the wall on the other side. It’s a comfy little spot, smelling of coffee and fruit and flowers, the perfect place to wait for someone to come by.

Somehow, fifteen minutes seems to feel so long. Even wasting time checking duelling match results and scrolling through pretty photos of plants on social media doesn’t help. As his knees bounce nervously and his hands toy with the hem of his shirtsleeve, Tim feels time drag on.

And then-

A slight shadow over Tim’s shoulder, blocking some of the artificial streetlight from pouring in through the window, and Tim turns to look when two soft knocks ring against the door.

There Nick is, face lit from above by the shop’s sign, smiling at Tim the way Leona smiles upon the garden on bright, sunny days, and Tim immediately springs up to open the door and welcome Nick in with his beat-up luggage and backpack and little grin that looks so excited to be  _ home, _ and Tim hopes Nick feels at home. “Welcome,” Tim jokes, barely stopping himself from giving Nick an overeager hug. A little giggle escapes his throat.

“Thanks,” Nick giggles in return, carefully pushing the handle of his suitcase back into it, with some difficulty. He manages to figure it out just in time for Jus and Oskar to come barrelling down the stairs, Oskar still as a dog, and Nick sneezes once before Oskar changes forms and helps carry the luggage upstairs.

“So...” Tim begins awkwardly as they’re suddenly left alone before trailing off in more little giggles. “I mean, you already know your way around... I think Jus said we’ll put your luggage in the living room for now,” and they ascend the stairs side by side, “so you can put your toothbrush and stuff in the bathroom today and then just change clothes in the bathroom. And we were going to put some blankets down on the floor in my room for you to sleep on if you want? Or you can take the couch? Because the futon is still upstairs, but we have to clean out the attic, still, so it’s livable.”

“Sounds good,” Nick agrees amiably. “We can do another sleepover thing, remember that?”

Oh, does Tim remember. He nods and giggles, trying to keep a lid on his excitement lest it boil over like a cauldron of untended potions. The two of them grab extra blankets out of the linens closet, folding a few in half to double-up the thickness of Nick’s bedding on the floor of Tim’s room. “Sorry it’s not quite as nice as last time,” Tim sheepishly mumbles as they arrange the makeshift bed with its heaped-up pillows and blankets and NIck sets his backpack down next to the pile.

“That’s alright!” Nick chirps, “this is great, too, honestly,” and his smile is so bright that Tim can’t help but believe him.

It’s a nice, cool night, and the house is still warm from the lingering traces of summer as they slip into fall, so Tim leaves his window open to let in a bit of the fresh fall air. Things certainly aren’t all red and orange and brown outside just yet, still green and bright, but the slight chill of autumn is in the air, just enough to cool Tim’s room off and remind him of Lissandra’s soon-approaching winter. He opens the window to let in a bit more of Diana’s moonlight magic, strengthening Tim in the same way that the night strengthens his plants, giving him courage to persist despite his nervous excitement around Nick tonight and blessing him with a bit of serenity as well. 

The two of them return to the kitchen once Nick’s bed has been set up, and, over Nick’s bowl of still-warm curry and a mug of lemon verbena tea for Tim, they chat about the day and what tomorrow will look like and all the little random things that pop into their minds, the things they’re usually too quiet to share with others but which are perfect to fill time in moments like these. When Nick laughs, Tim does too, and their shared smiles and teasing and laughs grows a warmth in Tim’s cheeks that he dearly hopes isn’t as strong of a blush as it feels.

Their chatting continues into the night, as Nick curls up in his blankets on the floor and Tim peeks his head out over the side of the bed to keep talking to him, little whispers and giggles and light from Tim’s desk lamp spilling out under the door into the hallway. Eventually Jus even raps his knuckles on their door, reminding them to go to sleep, since tomorrow will be a long day, particularly for Nick.

Tim giggles as soon as Jus returns to his own room alongside Oskar, while Nick simply gives him a sleepy, happy smile, and Tim’s heart throbs at the sight.

“I’ll wake you up tomorrow,” Tim promises - his own internal rhythm has him waking up at four anyway, so rousing the other members of the household, even the new one, is easy enough.

Nick nods and snuggles into his blanket pile, and soon he’s fast asleep, as far as Tim can tell.

The whole thing reminds Tim of back when Jus was his roommate in boarding school, all their hushed sleepovers with Jus’s familiar and how their dormitory monitor would walk by and they would all have to be as quiet as a mouse. Now, with Nick off to sleep, Tim has a moment to slow down and take it all in. It’s been a good - no, a great - day. And something about being around Nick is comfortingly familiar, the result of so many hours spent working together.

A soft rattling of the doorknob alerts Tim once more, and a quiet, plaintive  _ meow _ makes Tim chuckle. Using his magic as best as he can, it takes him a little while and no small amount of effort to open the door for Soves to slip in, though closing it is easier, at least, and Soves leaps up onto his bed for a few night-time pets. Ever since the failed familiar bonding, she’s been getting more friendly, still aloof but also comfortable being close to Tim, now. He sits cross-legged on his bed and Soves lays down next to him, tucking her paws in under her body and resting her head against his knee. As his hands trace over the ripply grey patch on her head and the different colours splotched against a pure white background, Soves purrs softly, just hard enough that Tim can feel the vibration in his knees, and Tim smiles at her, even when she decides she’s had enough affection and leaps off Tim’s bed to lay in her own.

Tim gives Nick one last look before flopping back onto his bed and staring at the ceiling, full of eagerness for the sun to rise again. He loves Diana as much as any witch, but oh, if Leona would just return sooner, just for today. There’s plants to work with, and sunshine to enjoy, and his first entire day with Nick by his side!

He can hardly wait for tomorrow to come.

With that in mind, he does his best to fall asleep, hoping that tomorrow will come sooner if he does.

\---

When morning comes, Tim does his best to carefully tiptoe his way out of the room. In the end, though, not even working downstairs can save Nick’s sleep for long - Tim can scramble eggs and make toast easily enough in his pyjamas, and he can grind coffee beans and stock up the shop’s teas and vanilla syrup, but he eventually has to wake Nick up just so he can have enough privacy to change clothes quickly, and so he gently shakes Nick’s shoulder.

“Mrrrr?” Nick mumbles sleepily as he comes to consciousness.

Tim’s face breaks into a smile. “Morning,” he says quietly, the room lit only by a few dawning rays of sunlight. “Um, breakfast is ready downstairs. Just take a piece of toast and I scrambled some eggs to eat it with.” As he speaks, Tim has to do his best to keep himself in the moment and not lost in daydreams of Nick - he looks terribly, terribly cute like this, face red and lined from wrinkles in the pillows and wide brown-hazel eyes still sleepy and his hair an uncombed mess.

“Oh! You could’ve woken me up for that, I could have helped you,” Nick says sweetly, alert in an instant.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Tim shrugs. He’s the one who normally makes breakfast, anyway. Seemingly sensing Tim’s mild hurry, Nick quickly folds his bedding up into a neat square and leaves Tim’s room. It’s likely that he’s changing in the bathroom as Tim puts on a loose, pale, long-sleeved shirt to keep him warm in the chill if there are clouds out, yet also keep him from getting too hot in the sunlight. When Tim reopens the door to his room to go and eat breakfast, his assumptions are confirmed; Nick has a nice, pastel-green hoodie on with the sleeves pushed up and his typical dark-coloured jeans. “You look nice,” Tim says simply.

“Thanks,” Nick answers with a little, still-sleepy giggle, and they hurry down the stairs together to the kitchen.

Accompanied by Soves and the before-dawn light, Tim and Nick eat breakfast together in a happy quiet. Tim shows Nick how to make a shot of espresso for an americano while he sips on a hot mug of spiced black tea, and their morning goes smoothly. Nick even lets Tim help him with adjusting the apron Jus had made for Nick - it’s decorated simply, with a big sunflower on it, just like the gardening apron Nick also has and in the same style as the other kitchen aprons Jus and Oskar and Tim make use of, with one embroidered, emblematic flower. By the time Jus comes down the stairs with a yawning Oskar in tow, Tim and Nick are both as ready as they can be for the day ahead.

From there, Tim lets Nick and Jus and Oskar be. Those three will work together this morning to ensure Nick gets some experience with the rushes and rhythms of the day, while also keeping Oskar around to make sure nothing in the shop falls behind.

Or at least, Tim thought Jus was keeping Oskar around all day, but as soon as the morning rush peters out, Oskar shows up in the garden, and Tim looks at him with a rather befuddled gaze.

“Jus doesn’t need three people if there’s not a rush,” Oskar explains.

He still looks like a kicked puppy as he picks up a trowel and starts helping Tim pull up a last handful of summer weeds.

“Glad they’re managing, then,” Tim says simply in response, and Oskar nods, and the two of them make occasional small-talk and harsh banter between friends while they water plants and remove weeds and check on perennials’ foliage to see if they’re doing alright as the weather cools.

Tim himself is so engrossed in his work, glad to still have someone to chat to even if it’s Oskar, that hours pass by and, when an interruption arrives, Tim himself isn’t the one who points out that Nick has joined them in the garden. His plants, on the other hand, are more than happy to loudly tease Tim about Nick’s presence as Nick carefully trims a few flowers for what looks like a decorative piece. He has good taste. Pink dahlias pair well with the blue cornflowers in his hands, and purple-yellow pansies help round out the colours. Nick snips two bouquets’ worth, then puts a neat, little bow of twine around their stems, making a short but bright display that would fit well in the small jars on each table. Lately, the jars have been filled with simple decorations - water and stones and a sprig of juniper in each - mostly because of Tim’s disinterest in updating them until the sunflowers yield their seeds and the extra two or three too small and stunted to seed can instead serve as cute decorations, but Nick’s decorations aren’t unwelcome. In any case, Jus probably told him to grab them, so they’ll find a way to make the most of every bit of colour.

“Going well?” Tim asks as Nick bustles past him with flowers in his hands.

Nick gives him a quick nod and a smile. “Going good!” he chirps.

And then he’s off again.

Tim smiles after Nick for a moment, then returns to his work with the typical deadpan expression he uses for most every situation in life, though, if someone who knows him well were to look closely, they would see the tiniest persistent smile clinging to his expression. Oh, Nick. Tim hopes he’s not straining himself too much - working in the shop is stressful, and difficult, and takes time to get used to. Nick will probably be utterly exhausted by the end of the shop’s long days.

“Do you think Jus needs help?” asks Oskar after a moment of staring back at the shop, almost forlorn to be without his witch at his side. “Maybe I should go help?”

“It’s not the lunch rush yet,” Tim answers plainly. “You’d just be in the way. There’s not  _ that _ much for Jus and Nick to do.”

“Well...”

“Oskar. You’re being clingy,” Tim points out. “Jus will be fine. You can check on him just before the lunch rush.”

Oskar sighs and nods.

“Now help me water the succulents by the window,” Tim demands, and Oskar chuckles at him, but brings the spray bottle of water and the small watering can and helps out anyway.

Really, Tim doesn’t need someone to help right now. He’s just watering plants, which is easy enough; the things he needs help with are all kitchen-work he does while Jus runs the storefront, but those issues aren’t for today, since keeping Oskar out of the shop kitchen will be even harder if he’s allowed inside and he’ll be utterly useless if he’s within sight of Jus. Even now, Oskar keeps popping his head up to look at where Jus is in the shop. His dog-ears, long since freed to the cool air outside since his half-shifted form is most comfortable and relaxed for him, flop sadly as though he’s a puppy and his owner has left for work.

Tim rolls his eyes outwardly, but Oskar and Jus both know he’s fond of them and their togetherness, and a truer friend was never had than Tim for Jus and Oskar.

Throughout the day, Tim and Oskar tend to the garden, plant by plant. Oskar takes a bit of time off for a little break on the porch swing, ostensibly to whittle another hook for the coat-stand for Nick’s coat to hang next to Tim’s and Jus’s and Oskar’s, but Tim is well-aware Oskar is mostly using the time to sneak glances at Jus. Tim supposes it’s just a bit weird to be so deeply tied to someone, to date them and then be their familiar, to stay at their side almost constantly for months and only leave for a few days on travel, and then have that person be so close and yet you cannot reach them. Admittedly, he feels that way about Nick, too, just a little - this is the first time that Nick has been in the shop and Tim isn’t with him.

It’s so unusual, in fact, that Tim resigns himself to baking, after he and Oskar eat lunch and it proves near-impossible to pull Oskar back out of the house.

Oh well.

Tim returns to his garden briefly, to pick some lemons for lemon poppyseed muffins. They’re still green, but it’s fine; he’ll just use dried lemon zest, he has plenty of that from making lemonade all summer long. Giving the lemon tree a little pat as thanks for its fruit, he takes two and returns to the kitchen, stealing a glance at Nick along the way. He seems to be adapting well, at least for now.

Once back in the kitchen, Tim gathers up all the ingredients he’ll need for lemon poppyseed muffins and starts mixing dry ingredients together, then adding in the wet ingredients. Once he’s done, he’ll nice batter to pour evenly into each cup on the cupcake pan, helpfully set up with cupcake liners by Oskar when Tim managed to pull him away from staring at Jus through the crack of the door Tim had to push shut lest Oskar never manage to get anything done. At least Oskar helped a little.

Nick’s voice startles Tim out of his baking trance while he’s in the middle of slicing the lemons in half to juice them. “I didn’t know we had a lime tree,” says Nick offhandedly as he walks past Tim to poke his head into the pantry, searching for some spice or another.

“We don’t,” Tim says with a little smile, “these are lemons.”

Nick gives him a confused look. “But they’re green! Aren’t they unripe, then?” Nick asks, seeming almost bewildered by the fruits under Tim’s knife.

“No,” Tim says, still suppressing a giggle. “Green lemons are the same as yellow lemons, it just doesn’t get warm enough during the day to turn them yellow right now.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Nick says, still seeming lost in thought. “Cool.”

“It is,” Tim agrees. “Did you need something?” he asks further after he’s finished juicing the lemons and Nick is still standing there, mindlessly watching him.

“Oh, right- yes, sorry, I’ll quit bothering you,” Nick says, all in a rush, “I know where the cinnamon and spice grinder are.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to grab the ground cinnamon jar, too; just refill that and then take what you need,” Tim says, his mind and eyes still on the lemon juice as he pours it through a sieve into the dry ingredients alongside eggs, milk and butter. Tim has showed him how to grind spices before; it’s just a matter of negotiating the machine.

“Yes, of course. It’s just the cinnamon shaker that’s a bit low, nothing to worry about,” Nick clarifies, already with two cinnamon sticks and the spice grinder in hand.

“Ah, I see.”

The hum of the spice grinder and the soft sounds of a whisk against the sides of a bowl fill the space in their conversation, this time, rather than the typical birdsong and breezes of the garden.

“Did you eat lunch yet?” Tim asks after a while, as he portions batter out between all the muffin cups and double-checks the oven temperature.

“Oh- um, not yet,” Nick mumbles, and Tim immediately stands up and gives him a mildly disapproving look. “I’m not really hungry, though,” he chuckles sheepishly.

“Did Jus eat lunch?” Tim asks, suddenly worried. If Jus didn’t eat lunch, then Oskar always gets upset and tetchy. Sometimes Tim thinks it’s the familiar bond making Oskar feel hungry, too, but it very well could simply be Oskar’s protective instincts getting annoyed at Jus not taking care of himself.

But thankfully, “Yeah, he had one of the sandwiches,” Nick answers, shutting off the grinder and pouring the ground cinnamon carefully into its jar.

“I can heat up some curry for you, if you want?” Tim offers. Working for so long and not eating can’t be good for you... Obviously it’s nothing major, but if Tim can care for Nick in even this small way, then Nick will feel better in the long run for sure.

“Oh! You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to,” Tim says, chuckling quietly at how cheesy it sounds. “If you don’t mind eating, at least.”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s okay. Thank you,” says Nick, and his heartfelt smile warms Tim’s heart.

“No problem,” Tim answers, and he sits with Nick after Nick takes the cinnamon to Jus and returns for his late lunch break, scooping up quick bites of creamy chickpeas in coconut-curry with bits of warm, fluffy rice mixed throughout. They talk a little, but they mostly sit in a content, peaceful silence, and Soves sits on the table and refuses pets like some sort of grumpy centrepiece.

After that is just more work until dinner. Tim makes a batch of potions as well, followed by a cake and the beginnings of the soup they’ll have for dinner. Jus takes a fifteen-minute break, imposed by Oskar as per usual, and sits on the porch swing and sips some sparkling water while Tim covers for him in the shop. It’s about the same crew as usual around at this time, after school has let out and a handful of kids without anywhere better to go end up playing card games and chatting in a corner of the shop. They’re never terribly loud, Marek and his little clique, and so no one really minds them. The only time Tim has ever heard them shout in the shop was when someone cheated at a high-stakes poker game with a pack of chewing gum on the line. Tim serves them each an amount of caffeine that seems unholy to him - though, admittedly, he doesn’t like coffee and tends to avoid caffeine at any time past seven in the morning - and Nick sits at the back table he and Tim share so often, resting his feet and having one of the freshly-baked lemon poppyseed muffins as a snack. Tim chats with him as the fifteen-minute break turns into Jus falling asleep on Oskar’s shoulder. They’re lucky only Tim can really see them thanks to the viewing angle.

It’s rather late in the day, anyway, so Tim doesn’t bother waking Jus up. Oskar can handle that. Their dinner rush generally isn’t too big, just some uni students looking for one last caffeine boost before night falls and a few weary parents buying some bread and sweet treats for their children, and Tim and Nick work out a lovely system where Tim takes care of all the food and Nick handles the drinks, only needing help with measuring the right amount of milk, now.

Finally, Jus wakes up, and he and Oskar resume control of the shop. Tim leads Nick back out to the porch swing to sit and enjoy the cooling day as it turns into dusk and then night, and Nick looks so world-wearied that Tim rocks the porch swing this time, instead of Nick, even though he has to reach his toes down to make contact with the ground.

\---

When the little bell over the shop door rings and then goes silent in the way Jus sets it as the shop closes, a wave of dread washes over Tim.

He’s forgotten to put the other vegetables in the soup.

Quickly, he hops off the swing and slowly encourages a yawning Nick to his feet as well, and hurries inside to correct his mistake so dinner can be had as soon as possible. Instead, Jus greets him with a smile. “I had a nap, so I’m pretty refreshed,” Jus says with a little giggle as he stirs the simmering soup on the stove to keep it hot. “Dinner’s done.”

With Nick’s help, Tim pulls the table out from where it usually sits pressed against the wall, so that all four of them can sit on their own side of it, and they set the table quickly. Then, each of them grabs a bowl and fills it with delicious, nourishing soup, and takes a seat.

Thanks to his rest, which Tim now realises Jus sorely needed, Jus seems just as bright as ever, and he chats with Nick about various customers and which ones are picky and which ones are the kind ones, which regulars like what and who’s who out of the regulars who are so memorable that Jus thinks of them as friends.

Nick nods along, occasionally commenting, but Tim can tell he’s feeling more tired than any real emotion right now. When he’s done with dinner, the four of them wash their own bowls, and Jus and Oskar take the rest of the dishes, letting Tim take Nick back to their -  _ their! _ \- bedroom, where Nick immediately grabs his sleeping hoodie and sweatpants and heads to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, then promptly curls up in his blankets with a book Tim offered him about a handful of gods and goddesses. His hands are now hidden in the long sleeves of his hoodie, and he looks so cute that Tim can’t help but stare for a little while. Of course, he quickly glances away as soon as Nick looks up at him, and they both awkwardly giggle a little.

In the meantime, Tim hurries to get ready for bed as well - it’s not late, but if Nick is going to sleep, then Tim might as well, too, and it’s not like he’ll be doing anything besides braiding straw or embroidering or planning out the fall seed harvest while listening to music or watching a duel. He showers and changes into his favourite pyjama shirt and shorts, and sits on his bed with a basket full of straw and another, smaller basket with some dried flower stems in neatly-tied bundles to choose from, to make charms with certain magical properties based on which flower stems and shapes they’re in.

Tim has only been weaving straw for a few minutes when he notices Nick looking up at him. “What are you making now?” he asks softly.

“Protection charms,” Tim answers, holding out his work for Nick to peer at. “They’re braided wheat with lavender and chrysanthemums.”

“Oh. It looks nice.”

“Mhm. They’re fun, too,” says Tim more quietly, trying to match Nick’s low energy to make sure he’s not putting extra stress on Nick to stay awake.

“Sounds nice,” Nick mumbles. When Tim glances over, he’s not surprised to see Nick dosing off as he sits upright in his blankets. Every once in a while, Nick’s eyes strain open again, and he blinks blearily at his hands in his lap, but the sleepiness rapidly overwhelms him over and over again until Nick is slumped over against the bedpost of Tim’s bed. Tim is almost of a mind to ruffle Nick’s hair.

That might be too forward for Nick’s sleepy state. Instead, he murmurs, “Nick?” in the hopes of telling him to go to sleep and not struggle back into the waking world until he’s well-rested.

“Mmrrrh?” Nick answers with a sleepy mumble that sounds oh so cute.

“You should lay down before you fall asleep for real,” Tim says with a soft chuckle, “you’ll sleep better that way.” Poor Nick must be exhausted - he looks like he’ll need every wink of sleep he can get.

“Oh! Right. Sorry,” Nick murmurs with a yawn. He stretches hard, arching his back and flaring his hands open wide. Tim yawns as well, though not nearly as harshly.

“It’s ok,” Tim says, smiling. “I just wanted to make sure you don’t end up with a sore back tomorrow because you fell asleep sitting up.”

“Haha, yeah. Thanks, Tim.”

“No problem. Goodnight~” Tim singsongs.

“Goodnight,” Nick answers with a sleepy giggle, and the next time Tim looks down from his wheat-weaving, Nick is sound asleep again. Poor Nick, he’s had a long, stressful, busy day. Tim would react the same way if he was thrown into suddenly working with so many people at once - luckily for both of them, they have Jus, who is more than talkative enough to cover for two of them. And the two of them, with Jus’s shadow protectively over them, can be as quiet and shy as they need to.

Nick is so cute.

Really, how is he so cute? Tim ponders over it as his hands work at the wheat strands, bundling in lavender among the straws for charms for good sleep and love and protection in Nick’s room and chrysanthemums for protection and decoration, and to ward off the musty attic smell with the sweetness of flowers. He ties the braid into a cute, circular ring about the size of both of his hands. Hanging on Nick’s wall and properly enchanted, this braid will soothe Nick’s dreams.

Actually, Tim wonders what he’s dreaming about right now. Inside the blankets, Nick’s hands and feet move in his sleep, in regular, repetitive movements, like a cat running in its sleep with how Nick’s hands and feet move in coordination. He must be having a nice dream, or at least Tim hopes he is - he would hate for Nick’s second night with them to be marred by sleeplessness, especially when Nick had seemed so tired after his long day of work.

Tim stares at Nick for a while. Perhaps too long? But he spends minutes gazing at Nick, tracing over each of his adorably sleepy features, from the small curve of his eyelids to the Varus-bow of his lips to his pointed nose to his cheekbones and the soft, light hair atop his head. Ah, he looks so sweet when he’s sleeping, though he looks even sweeter when he’s awake and giggling with Tim over something random. A stray lump of dough on one of their faces, perhaps, or the way the wind messes with their hair, or a story Tim tells him. That reminds Tim - Nick had asked about the story of Bard, so Tim needs to visit the library sometime soon to get a better book than the old one he’s had since he was little. It’s a lovely book for illustrations and lore summaries, but a more in-depth version of the tale will require a more specific book than a childhood tome.

Before Tim forgets that thought in the haze of sleep washing over him, he makes sure to mark it down in his phone. Then, he yawns and stretches, not quite setting aside his charm-making just yet. He’ll finish one more as Nick paddles in his sleep.

Really, it’s so cute.

But Tim’s hands, at least for now, still have work to do, and so Tim sets them to their task of binding the lavender and wheat and chrysanthemums together. This braid is a bit more complicated, since the chrysanthemums have full flower heads, allowing for extra decoration and extra difficulty in braiding, but Tim’s no newbie to weaving charms with flowers, and it’s easy enough for him to work around. Once that particular ring of braid and flowers has been tied off and set neatly with the others on Tim’s desk, Tim stretches out again with another yawn. That’s about all he can take tonight.

He steals one last glance at Nick before lying down in the comfort of his bed and bedsheets, and falls asleep soon after his head hits the pillow, full of happiness and gratefulness and pure, unadulterated excitement.

\---

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Tim wakes up. Not for any particular reason or anything, sometimes he just wakes up. Just for the fun of it, he supposes. As he usually does on these nights, Tim sighs and props himself up on his elbows to gaze lovingly at his plants and the stars in the sky beyond. Marvelling at the light, delicate scent, Tim brushes his fingertips against the soft petals of the jasmine and lavender, caught in a reverie for nature as he so often is.

A tiny sound momentarily disturbs that.

At first, Tim thinks it’s just his imagination, that he’s mistaken the squeak of a bat outside or a stray branch groaning in the wind for a nearly voiceless whine, but then it happens again, along with a rustling like that of sheets against sheets. A house-mouse, maybe, or a fallen scrap of paper?

When Tim cranes his head over the side of his bed to check, he sees Nick, and immediately all that confusion disappears. Nick is shifting, whimpering, kicking ever so slightly in his sleep. Whatever dream he’d been having must have gone sour somewhere along the line.

Gently, Tim reaches down to rub his hand against Nick’s shoulder - he’s lying closer to Tim tonight than he did last time, so Tim theoretically could even ruffle Nick’s hair if he wanted to, but he won’t. That would be far too forward. Instead, Tim cautiously puts a bit of pressure on Nick’s shoulder in a vague imitation of weakly shaking someone awake. Unsurprisingly, Nick does not stir from his troublesome slumber, and rather his shivers grow as he flinches away from Tim’s hand. It makes Tim wonder if he’s cold, or scared, or having a nightmare, or just not used to sleeping on the floor.

So, Tim wraps himself up in a bundle of his own blankets and lays down next to Nick on the cold, bare hard-wood floor with only a thick winter duvet between them and the floor’s unforgivingness and two layers of blanket between Tim’s body and Nick’s. Careful to mind his boundaries, Tim doesn’t scoot too close, though simply due to how near Nick had been to his bed, they’re within a few inches of each other. Still, he’s only there to try and work a bit of sleep magic, after all. There’s a pillow scented with bits of dried lavender in its stuffing in a box under his bed, and Tim manages to pull it out without disrupting Nick at all, and the sweet, flowery, soothing smell of lavender fills Tim’s mind as soon as he fluffs up the pillow. It’ll make a nice sleep aid for Nick - this lavender has a bit of Tim’s magic and the strength of the moon in it - as well as a gentle symbol of their boundaries. Tim knows better than to get close while Nick is sleeping, even if Nick’s sleep is fitful.

As the lavender pillow, fittingly covered in a light purple pillowcase, settles between them, Tim can hear Nick sigh softly and lean closer to it and Tim in his sleep. Slowly, his cries and whimpers quiet, then cease, and Tim can’t help but smile when Nick sighs again. His hands start moving in the cutest way. Almost like a cat, Nick’s hands paddle with tiny movements and paw at the pillow, and Tim very carefully pushes the pillow into Nick’s grip so Nick can have the pillow to hold and squeeze in fistfuls. Of course, Nick isn’t actually conscious and thus has no real finesse in holding the pillow. Moving Nick’s arms might wake him up, too...

Tim instead scoots just a bit closer, so the pillow pinned between them can’t slide away, and Nick’s hands slow down into a lazy, rhythmic kneading of the pillow. It reminds Tim of how Dracarys used to knead at his thigh when she was happiest. Maybe Nick has some ixtal or vastayan in his bloodline, such a small trace that it can’t be seen anywhere but in how his hands move as he sleeps.

In any case, it’s absolutely adorable.

Quietly, Nick whines again, a little squeak from his throat that sounds happy this time instead of scared, and Tim very cautiously scoots them over just enough that he can lie on his back without hitting his head on the frame of his bed. Then, he turns to Nick and nudges the pillow against him. Nick’s hands automatically begin to knead the pillow again, moving in even slower rhythms than before, and it makes Tim wonder what Nick is dreaming about that has him on such an emotional rollercoaster. Maybe it’s a series of dreams, and Nick is finally on the happy conclusion. Maybe he’s a child again, with his parents, cuddling a big plushie in his dream, or maybe his hands are remembering the vague patterns Nick and Tim had used to make bread only a few days ago. Maybe Tim is in his dreams.

A tiny, barely-noticeable smile appears on Nick’s face as Tim himself grows drowsy. It’s just a little thing, barely a quirk of the lips, but it’s still sweet and cute and utterly adorable and another of Varus’s arrows pierces Tim’s heart. In his sleepy haze, Tim’s hands reach up to brush Nick’s hair out of his face almost instinctively, though Tim is careful to not let them do anything more than that, even though Nick leans into the touch and looks so happy and-

Not yet, Tim chides himself. And with that, he drags his own pillow down from his bed, settling it under his head and quickly falling asleep.

If, perhaps, Tim wakes up for a few minutes a few hours later, still before the sun is up and his day begins, and when he wakes up at that early hour, Nick’s head is resting against his shoulder, and Tim does absolutely nothing to move Nick away but instead simply gazes at him with eyes touched by a certain fluttery emotion - well, that’s neither here nor there.

\---

Today we have some wonderful art not of the characters but instead of the storefront! Credit to Lysia for this beautiful masterpiece, it's so detailed and simply perfect!

It's so beautiful! 😍😍😍 Check out her Twitter [@lilRoundabout](https://twitter.com/lilRoundabout) for other gorgeous art! Thank you so much, Lysia! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah but how pretty is that art *cries in awe*  
> i will try to move back to friday uploads! Soon™  
> check out [this Google Document](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qd6l89vHBcsfqecW3Bbo6UoYFS3L59I1iE3l-Qn69YI/edit?usp=sharing) for my list of works in progress and for updates on fics! also follow [my writing twitter, @shyverrr_v2,](https://twitter.com/shyverrr_v2) for updates in tweets!  
> and let me know what you thought below! <3


	16. Espresso and Apple Strudel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick wakes up awkwardly close to Tim. It feels good, but he shouldn't indulge, right? Anyway. He goes about his day again, this time working in the shop and with Tim in the garden. And lucky for him, a friend of Tim's drops by and they're introduced.

As always, Nick’s first thought upon waking up is to listen around for predators. One could easily sneak up on him in the night, when he rests and the pack of wolves in the forest just beyond the city’s edge roam farther and fiercer in search of prey and territory. Even if there’s no danger, it’s good to have an idea of what he’ll be facing before the world knows he’s awake.

Today there’s a dearth of information around him. He can smell, but his nose doesn’t seem quite so sharp as normal, though the full, floral scent of something surrounds him. Thankfully, his ears swivelling around atop his head provide enough sense for him - there’s a whirring little fan and a quiet, distant hum of the last few crickets of summer, and next to him, a soft, whistling-wheezing-breathy noise that makes Nick wonder what creature has snuck up on him in the night.

In the midst of it all, Nick nearly forgets why he’s so cosy and warm.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, lashes fluttering in the early morning light, and, at the sight in front of him, he entirely forgets.

For Tim is laying there with him, on the two layers of blankets they’d lain on the floor for Nick’s temporary bed, only centimetres away from Nick’s body. Tim lays there, loosely covered by his own blanket, which, Nick now realises, is draped over him as well, though Nick stays in his own blanket cocoon within the extra layer of warmth and there’s a pillow lying between them, cased in a pretty lilac colour and smelling of lavender.

Nick breathes deep and smiles and sighs - maybe not just because of the lavender’s soothing scent.

Out of all the wake-ups Nick has had over the last ten years or so, maybe even twenty, this has to be one of his favourites. Tim looks even more innocent and sweet and caring in his sleep, when the thoughtful scrunch in his brow melts away and leaves only a peaceful smile so small, even Nick barely notices that it’s there. But it is, and it’s adorable, and it’s oh, so sweet.

Perhaps just one touch wouldn’t hurt. Tim must have awoken at some point during the night to lay down next to Nick, anyway, and he’s confessed his love twice now in only dating proposals, the most serious form of interest Nick could hope to have Tim express. Just a little touch, a brush against Tim’s cheek, a gentle hand running through Tim’s irresistibly-soft-looking hair... just something small.

Carefully, Nick reaches out to cup his hand around Tim’s cheek lightly. Not for a kiss. Not for a squish. Just to hold him for a second, just to hold him sweetly.

In one moment, Nick’s fingers are left suspended in thin air. In the next, they’re touching the lightest traces of peach fuzz on Tim’s cheeks, so close, so close to admiring Tim’s soft beauty for ages until his mind is sated.

And then-

Knock-knock.

It’s not terribly loud, but even that noise is enough to make Nick jerk back, flinching away like he’s been caught in the midst of something much less innocent than resting in Tim’s presence.

“Niiick, Tiiim,” Jus calls gently, “c’mon, wake up!”

How in the world is he so cheery at this early hour? Just yesterday, he’d been practically dead on his feet when the day began. Nick wonders how many cups of coffee Jus has already gulped down.

At Nick’s side, Tim sighs softly, and Nick watches as he stirs to wakefulness, first taking a deep breath and then stretching and shifting and settling down again - except now, he leans into Nick’s warmth and the pillow in front of him until Tim’s head bumps against Nick’s chest. Still in the throes of sleep, Tim snuggles his cheek against Nick’s heartbeat for a second.

Then, he looks up with blinks of confusion clearing his eyes, and when he sees Nick staring back at him, Tim nearly jumps. “Um. G-good morning,” he mumbles, quickly drawing back so he’s not nearly so close, voice soaked in sleepiness and an awkward sort of embarrassment.

“Good morning,” Nick answers with a little giggle. Hopefully Tim doesn’t mind that Nick didn’t mind the wake-up at all. Maybe he even enjoyed it, but until the two of them are dating for real, Nick would never admit it - too embarrassing, too much of his heart on the line.

Nick doesn’t know how early it is. Judging by the reflected, gentle, grey light of the morning shining through to the floor between potted plants and a spray bottle of water and artificial growing lights, it can’t be that late, yet. When Nick looks away from the window and back at Tim again, Tim gazes back sleepily, with grey eyes like cloudy skies as soft as the blankets he and Tim are wrapped in. Nick gives Tim a little smile, and Tim smiles and giggles back. “Did you sleep well?” Tim asks sweetly, sleepiness still fogging his eyes.

“Y-yeah, I slept-”

The door crashes against the wall, swinging wildly on its hinges, and both Nick and Tim’s eyes look to see.

“Hey, get up - Jus made apple strudel,” says Oskar, standing in the open door and leaning against the frame without any cares in the world.

Nick and Tim stare at Oskar with wide, shy eyes.

“Ah, not even on the bed? Freaks,” Oskar teases as he takes in the mildly compromising situation he’s found his friend and his friend’s romantic interest in. “Well, hurry up before I eat all the strudel,” he says with a shrug that seems far more careless than it should, and by now Tim has regained his tongue.

“Shut up, Oskar,” Tim retorts with a devilish grin and a sharp wit, and wow, Nick likes this Tim a lot, “like I didn’t have to see you and Jus in uni f-”

“Okay, okay,” Oskar grumbles, backing off, “that one is your fault for not telling us when you would be back,” He seems to grimace at the mere memory. “Just- shut up and hurry up and get breakfast before the shop opens.”

Tim snickers as Oskar makes a hasty retreat, and Nick can’t help but chuckle too, partially at the pure absurdity of it all but also at how homely and reassuring this house and these people feel, even after just two nights of staying with them and a few months around Tim. It’s more than Nick ever expected to have again.

“Sorry about that,” Tim says, turning to Nick with a glimmer in his eye that says he’s not at all sorry for roasting Oskar. “I guess they’re high-energy this morning.”

“No, that’s fine,” Nick answers gently. “It’s kind of nice. My old roommate and I were friends, but never that close. So this is nice.”

Well, Nick probably sounds like a loser now, huh.

But, “well, I’m glad you like them,” Tim chirps with a sweet smile, and Nick’s eyes linger perhaps a bit too long on the happy curve of his lips. “They’re my best friends so... I guess you’ve met almost all my friends, now.”

“Almost?” Nick asks lightly as he stretches and folds away his mess of blankets into a neat, manageable pile that fits nicely into the straw basket Tim holds out to him.

“There’s one more good friend, then it’s just my brother and the rest of my family,” Tim explains. “If the friend comes by, though, you’ll probably have to meet his roommates, too - they’re obnoxious like that.”

Nick chuckles. “I see, I see,” he murmurs thoughtfully, grabbing his toothbrush and soap and a practically-threadbare face towel from his backpack. His luggage is in the main room; he’ll have to grab his clothes from there to be ready for the day, and so once he’s neatened up his living space so as to not be intrusive to the rest of Tim’s room, Nick grabs a change of hoodies and a relatively clean pair of jeans and the requisite pill for today and hurries off to the bathroom to switch out of his pyjamas into more appropriate dayclothes. It’s a bit hard to choke down the pill dry, but after brushing his teeth and washing out his mouth of the toothpaste, Nick manages to get it down with a bit of water from the sink. Whew.

When he exits the bathroom with pyjamas neatly folded, Tim is still in his room, so Nick puts his clothes in his suitcase again and then pushes it back against the wall, as out-of-the-way as possible. He can hear and smell Jus cooking downstairs, so he really should head down there. After a moment’s thought, Nick instead walks over to Tim’s door once more.

He’s just about to lightly rap his knuckles against the handsome wood when the door swings open in front of him, and Nick nearly taps Tim’s chest with his hand before he hastily retracts it with an awkward giggle. “Sorry- I was just about to get you,” Nick says.

Tim smiles at him again. “Oh, that’s okay! Ready for today?” he asks, and Nick nods.

As ready as he’ll ever be, for his life to readjust to working defined hours in a defined place with friends rather than alone.

“Good morning, you two! Finally out of bed, huh?” Jus chirps as Tim and Nick descend the stairs into the shop area.

“More like finally off the floor,” Oskar jokes, but Jus just rolls his eyes and neither Tim nor Nick laugh at the low-hanging fruit. Quietly, Oskar grumbles a few complaints about how no one appreciates his humour any more, but Nick is pretty sure no one is listening to that, either. Instead, Tim and Nick grab plates and take thick slices of apple strudel with clotted cream - a heavenly treat for Nick.

The pastry is flaky, and the apples are in soft, sweet yet sour cubes and go deliciously with the rest of the cinnamony, syrupy, spiced filling. And the clotted cream... It’s rich and thick and milky-sweet and Nick is almost certain he’s not tasted something so wonderful since those cookies Alfonso gave him last Midwinter.

“Good?” Jus asks as they eat in silence.

Nick nods enthusiastically. “It’s really good,” he says once he’s swallowed his mouthful. “Thank you, Jus.”

“No problem, Nick,” Jus says with a smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Tim points out, still with a bit of sleepy grumpiness on his face.

“He’s already had two espressos,” Oskar interjects with a grim demeanour. “So if he gets loopy, you know what happened.”

“I’m surprised you let him have two,” Tim says with a curious look towards Jus standing behind the counter and staring at Tim with no small measure of pouting in his gaze. “Did he steal the other one or what?” Tim asks anyway, unperturbed by Jus.

“Yeah,” Oskar answers like it’s just an everyday ordeal. “I went to get the mail and then this idiot chugged half his macchiato while I was gone and then refilled it with more espresso and no milk. You’re gonna die of a caffeine overdose someday, Jus,” Oskar chides in the same tones an elderly couple would use to nag at each other in the sweetest way possible.

“I have to stay awake all day,” Jus makes excuses with a shrug, “no napping. And I woke up early.”

“And whose fault was that?” Oskar says pointedly.

“Yours!” Jus giggles, “you kicked me in your sleep!”

With a side glance from and to Tim, Nick chuckles and the two of them finish up their sweet breakfast as Oskar and Jus playfully bicker as they prepare the day’s goods. Tim and Nick wash their plates and the dishes, once breakfast is done. After that, it’s a typical day, though Nick only realises why Tim is leaving the house as he puts his shoes on. He’s off to the market the way he normally is in the morning.

And just like that, Nick is left with Jus and Oskar to prepare for the shop to open in just half an hour.

In that time, there’s a few more garnishes to be cut, and a fresh pie to slice evenly for sale piece by piece, and some potions to move around and lay out and restock in the shop fridge. This kind of work is simple, though, and Nick settles into his own rhythm, outside of the interwoven paths of Oskar and Jus, who effortlessly move around each other and in unison with each other as it’s needed.

They’re so connected, in fact, that Nick doesn’t even notice that they’re trying to talk to him until Oskar nudges him and stares at him, probably trying to communicate through a bond Nick and Oskar would never have.

“I can’t hear you,” Nick says plainly.

For a split second, Oskar’s brows furrow deeper. Then it hits him, and he chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. Did you tell him yet?” he asks with a gentle prodding at Nick’s side.

“Tell who what?” Nick answers, playing ever so slightly dumb.

“Tell Tim about where you’re from,” Oskar returns just as easily.

Nick resists the urge to sigh wistfully, instead choosing to merely sigh. “No. It’s kind of hard to tell people,” he trails off. Not to mention, what if Tim judges him for it? Best not to bring it up unless Tim asks.

“You should still tell him about it at some point,” Oskar says with a raised eyebrow.

“I will, just...” Nick attacks a spot on the counter with his cleaning rag as though if he made it disappear, his problems would, too. “...well, it doesn’t come up much in conversation, if you know what I mean,” he continues. “And I don’t want to put pressure on him. It would be like ‘hey, if you weren’t in love with me I would be homeless’ and that... I don’t know. It would ruin the relationship,” Nick says softly.

He would never, ever, ever want to do anything that could potentially ruin what he and Tim have.

Even if what he and Tim have is informal.

“Ohohoh, so you are interested!” Oskar chortles, latching on to what he wants to hear, it would seem.

“I won’t make any uncouth moves,” Nick answers in his best defence of himself. “I’m not- I can be professional in a working environment.” He hopes they don’t disapprove. Even though they’ve told him they’re okay with it... still, he hopes they haven’t suddenly changed their minds.

“You’re doing better than us, then, Nick,” Jus teases with a conspiratory wink, and, with the last of the coffee beans for the day pre-ground and a fresh coffeepot and milk and syrup and foaming wand at the ready, Jus flips the switch, turning the sign hanging before their door on with a magical internal light, letting customers know they’ve opened, and just moments later, a man with tall hair and long, dark grey-brown wings lands silently in front of the door and opens it. “Hey, Petter,” Jus says, an amiable greeting for their night-owl customer and friend, and just like that, they’re busy with business.

The way Jus and Oskar work together, it seems pure and natural. It’s not taught or learned, simply understood based on who they are.

Their mutual exchange through their magical bond.

Their mutual connection in their hearts, minds and souls.

Is this what it means to be a familiar?

Nick hopes he’ll one day find out.

\---

As he works through the morning, through Tim’s return and then Tim’s departure for the garden Nick’s mind wanders with each customer. Some have long horns and deer bodies, others are eerily pale and look as though they’ve been up all night. One memorable pair, two faeries, are so tiny that they stand on the counter to order and pay a coin for a thimbleful of coffee. Still others float in, or bring friends. A tall, slender, sylph-looking woman Nick recognises from Lunasa as the storyteller stops by for three coffees, and she soars out of the coffeeshop with an airy giggle and the drinks floating around her.

Another woman stops by, her dark brown hair short and cute, brushing against her shoulders, and she smiles gently at Nick with tiny, tired lines around her eyes. Nick recognises her and her equally dark brown eyes, and the way her gaze flits about the room like a wary rabbit. She’s Max’s older sister.

For a moment, Nick thinks about telling her that he knows Max, but she probably doesn’t recognise him, and Nick barely knows what to say, so he simply hands her the coffee with sugar she had ordered, and he tells her in his best customer-service voice, “enjoy, thank you for stopping by.” Nick’s a bit happy she didn’t order two drinks - Max on caffeine would probably be a monster, like a child on a sugar-high.

What’s Max doing right now, anyway? Honestly, thinking this much about someone he doesn’t really talk to hasn’t happened to Nick since Brendan had to move countries for his father’s business, being removed completely from the life he had made for himself, losing his friends and his girlfriend at the behest of a simple demand from his aristocratic family. Nick had been hit hard, to say the least.

Well.

Obviously.

That’s what made him truly homeless for the second time.

But he digresses. Brendan is in the past, but Max is so close to the present. Nick could probably go back to the bridge, wander the area for a while until he sees Max again. Admittedly, Nick is worried about the little bunny. He’s so naive and trusting that it makes Nick want to protect him, in a similar way to how he wants to protect Tim. Not the same way, of course; Nick protects Tim the way boyfriends look out for each other - not that they’re boyfriends yet! - and he looks out for Max the way an elder brother might, or the way humans almost always instinctively care for injured animals whether they know the animal is a familiar or wild or a shifter in disguise.

It would also be nice to truly call Max his friend, rather than just someone whom he’s met, a friend who shares his ixtal struggles and doesn’t hate him for being ixtal or for being a rather unimpressive breed. Nick hopes Tim wouldn’t mind, but... who knows. Nick has seen similarly sweet people with worse beliefs.

Maybe Nick is just affection- and friendship-deprived. That would explain it.

Anyway, as much as Nick’s mind loves to wander, even that dramatic turn in his life isn’t something that really truly matters in this moment. In this moment, what’s important is how he’ll be working with Tim in the garden after lunch, and so Nick downs his sandwich Jus gave him, with a little more tuna salad inside of it than normal for customers.

Tim is his partner for the day, starting now, and with a sweet little smile he sends Nick to check over the apple trees, to see how red the apples on the apple trees are and if the streaks of green indicate too much sourness or just the right amount. Carefully, Nick sets up a small ladder by the tree to extend his reach, and he cups each fruit in his hands for inspection, then lets them go, working his way from the inner branches outward. Individually, the apples look great. Comparatively, Nick has no basis for understanding if this is a good year or a bad year for fruit, but the boughs of the apple trees droop noticeably with the weight. That’s a good sign for sure, right? And the apples are mostly firm, with only one or two suspiciously mushy. Nick repositions the stepladder to reach a few high fruits and check them over, too, but as he grips one and rotates it to check all sides, the stem twists unusually. He can hear it snapping away, and suddenly the full weight of the apple is in his hand, not just what he had been holding up.

“Tim?” Nick calls out. Tim isn’t within his line of sight, but Nick can hear him still working the soil, pulling up spent annual flowers to replace them with crops of parsnips and beets in one corner, snow peas in another, arugula and kale and spinach on the tall gardening tower where sunlight is most plentiful.

“Yes?” Tim answers.

“I think I pulled an apple off on accident,” Nick says, staring at the half-green, half-red fruit in his hand.

“Oh! Hold on, I wanna see it,” Tim chirps, and a trowel clanks to the ground as Tim hastily brushes his hands free of dirt on his gardening apron.

As Tim draws closer, Nick hands the apple to him as their fingers brush, and Tim inspects it with hands that caress every edge of the apple’s firm crispness. “Is it okay?” Nick asks semi-anxiously. He hadn’t meant to kill it early, after all, only check it over for insect bites or wormholes.

“It’s great!” Tim cheers. “The first apple of the season is always special, we can make apple torte tomorrow. I’ll buy some extra apples, too, at the market.”

“That sounds great,” Nick says with a peaceful sort of happiness. Something about that little success is just... emboldening. He feels good, all positive and happy just from the cooling air and the prospect of fall. He’s almost about to step down from the ladder to hug Tim close once more, but alas, it would seem they have some sort of visitor before Nick can even make a move.

“Hey, Tim!” chirps the interruption who has poked his head through the back door to the garden. He has fluffy brown hair, though not as fluffy as Tim’s, and he has glasses on his face and a few leaves in his hair and a sachet tied around his neck just like Nick, though this man’s sachet is embroidered with golden threads in circles, and Nick finds his eyes drawn to the design.

“Hey, Mihael,” Tim says with a gentle smile. It’s not quite the same one he uses for Nick - this one is friendly, rather than bright and hopeful. Nick does his best to make himself seem approachable, at least, though the ravens on this... Michael? On his shoulders, anyway, appear to be wary of Nick regardless.

The albino raven watches him with a blank red gaze. Nick gives it a nod of respect in return, and both the albino and the black raven bob their heads.

“Hi Tim!” Mihael chirps. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” answers Tim with a grin. He stands up from inspecting the foliage of the bean plants and steps through the garden with footsteps like the dryads and fae Nick sees in the parks sometimes, with that same effortless grace, to talk to Mihael while Nick keeps absent-mindedly checking over their lovely apple trees, hoping to just seem busy enough that he’s not waiting to talk to Tim again but also not so engaged that he’s unavailable for a conversation.

Briefly, Nick glances over his shoulder at Tim and Mihael, and there’s a little twinge in his heart when Tim hugs Mihael and the black raven flaps down to perch in Tim’s arms.

“How have you been?” Nick can hear them saying to each other, exchanging little pleasantries that may be more than pleasantries, considering Tim’s idea of a normal greeting is a half-smile so small most people wouldn’t notice it. Maybe they’re long-time friends or something. Obviously they must simply be friends, since Tim has expressed such prolonged and consistent interest in Nick.

So that settles that, Nick supposes. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the trees in front of him and turns his attention to poking at the roots of the tree.

Then, though, “hey, Nick!” Tim calls from the less flora-filled space at the front of the garden, “there’s someone I want you to meet!”

Nick pokes his head up over the hedges just high enough to see.

Tim beckons him over and turns to say something quietly to Mihael, quietly enough that Nick himself doesn’t hear it even with the wind’s best efforts to carry the noise to him, and so Nick puts his shears and harvesting knife back in their respective pouches in his gardening apron and picks his steps through the garden as carefully as he can, wincing every time he crushes part of a non-grass plant underfoot.

“So this is my friend,” Tim says as Nick stands next to them. They go through basic introductions between Mihael and Nick, just hellos and nice-to-meet-yous that could be fake or real and no one really knows.

The ravens caw approvingly. Or disapprovingly? It’s been a while since Nick recalled the vague bird-tongues he learned in school. Either way, they give a quick, short call, then stare at Nick again with eyes that seem to see straight through him.

“Iki-tal,” says the white, red-eyed raven, and Nick’s blood runs cold as it keeps staring at him.

It can’t know.

Ravens are wise, clever birds, but it can’t possibly know, it can’t possibly recognise him, he’s never seen this creature before today even in his cat form, there’s no way it knows who he is and what he is, it’s just not possible, it has to be some random, silly party trick it’s been taught. Right?

With a blanched expression, Nick glances at Tim to see what his reaction is - if he’s angry, confused, too curious, or simply amused.

He chuckles. This must not be unusual.

“Good boy, Bloodmoon,” Mihael croons, “Ixtal. He’s learning to say some new words,” Mihael explains as he turns to Nick and Tim and Bloodmoon, apparently the white raven, combs through Mihael’s hair with his beak.

The black raven lets out a loud curse, and all three people giggle.

Mihael playfully sighs and rolls his eyes. “No, Eclipse,” he chides. “As you can see, Luka is a horrible influence on them,” adds Mihael with a wink at Tim as though they’re sharing an inside joke, which, if they’ve been friends for a while, they most certainly are, and Tim’s nod and chuckle affirms it.

At the sound of what presumably is his name, another man comes through the garden door, holding two drinks in his hands. “What are you saying about me, Miky?” he asks with a devilish grin as he gives one of the drinks to Mihael.

“Nothing you haven’t heard before,” Mihael jokes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luka snorts. “Anyway, Tim, who’s this?”

“Nick, this is Luka. Luka, meet Nick.”

Nick and Luka exchange handshakes and an acknowledging nod, and the chimes and trinkets strung along Luka’s clothing jangle happily. Now that Nick notices them, there are actually so many random bits and pieces on Luka’s jacket, whether its feathers sewn in a little bunch on the sleeve or a small patch that looks like the moon and the sun or a clipped-in keychain with what looks like water and a bit of sand in it. That must be heavy on Luka’s shoulders, but the slightly-short, brown-haired, hazel-eyed, smirking man doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

By now, Tim and Mihael are chatting again with Luka listening and Nick watching awkwardly. Time and time again, his eyes wander to the explosion of colours and textures and things on Luka’s jacket. There’s even a piece of snakeskin tucked in on the sides, in a shiny black colour with little glimmering rainbows as the light bounces off of it. It must be well-preserved. Nick hasn’t seen such a beautiful shedskin since his school days. The scales are so delicate and they shine light so wonderfully that they even seem to move and slither about.

And then a tail appears.

Nick’s eyes follow the black-rainbow line up around Luka’s body, winding over his arms and his patches and around his torso.

Almost as though someone else is lifting it, Luka’s arm raises slightly towards Nick. “Rainbow? What do you want?” Luka asks, looking at something slithering down his arm inside his jacket sleeves.

A little snake-head with innocent, blank black eyes peeps its head out of Luka’s sleeve and flicks its tongue at Nick curiously, and both Luka and Nick chuckle at it as it reaches out with its slim but long body. It doesn’t seem threatening, only scenting the air around Nick using its tongue. By the rainbow shimmers along its back, Nick would guess that it’s either a rare pet or a familiar - probably a familiar, if Luka trusts it so much that he lets it hang off of his own body. And somehow, this snake is cute, in a weird, beautiful, this-thing-can-kill-you way.

“He’s always curious, don’t mind him,” Luka says with a smile. “You’re not afraid of snakes?”

“Not if they’re tame,” Nick answers, though he’s careful to not make any sudden movements around this particular familiar. It looks him up and down, then cranes its body around to look at Luka, who seems to talk to it through whatever means Jus and Oskar communicate in so often, that inaudible form of language between a witch and their familiar.

Then, the snake retreats into Luka’s sleeve again, probably sheltering for warmth in the cool autumn air.

“Mikyyy,” Luka says, almost naggingly, “don’t forget we have to bring Marcin his coffee, too.”

Mihael looks guiltily back at Luka, and both of the ravens look anywhere but at Luka’s face in their own show of sheepishness. “Alright, alright,” says Mihael reluctantly. “Well, I’ll see you later, Tim.”

“See you later,” Tim answers, “let me know how the African violets are doing, okay?”

“I will,” Mihael says with a grin and a hug. “It was nice meeting you, Nick,” he says with a nod towards him.

“It was nice meeting you too,” Nick cordially responds.

Soves, whose eyes watch them from the back window of the shop, blinks lazily as the newcomers leave, and then she settles down with her head in her paws, ready for another nap before prowling the shop and garden for unsuspecting flashes of sunlight.

“So that’s my friend,” Tim says to Nick as they stand in the garden together. “Luka and Marcin are his roommates. Marcin kills the plants a lot. He’s a fire witch.”

“Oh, I see,” Nick says with a nod.

“Um. I have to keep planting so I finish today... were you almost done with the apple trees?” Tim asks with a hopeful smile, to which Nick answers that he just has a few more apples to check over and then he’ll help Tim.

As his response, Tim surges forward and hugs Nick.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Tim mumbles into Nick’s shoulder as they hug, with Tim standing on pointed toes and Nick gently holding his waist.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” Nick says with a tone that is more affectionate than intended, but who cares when Tim is with him like this? Eventually they part to their own sides of the garden, but still, Tim remains on Nick’s mind.

Something warm alights on Nick’s neck as he descends the ladder after checking the last few apples, brushing against the skin over his collarbones and chest, and Nick taps it gently. It’s his sachet, which is nothing unusual, but what’s weird is the warmth. Gently, Nick cups his hand over the sachet against his chest, trying to feel what might be going awry. Obviously, it’s magic, so something in it could easily be doing something Nick cannot control or stop, even if it’s dangerous. If the little cloth bag starts burning him, then Nick will get Tim’s help.

But this doesn’t feel like burning.

It feels warm, light, gentle, almost. Ethereal. A kind of warmth thats feels unreal.

Nick’s fingers run lightly over the materials in the sachet, tracing them one by one. The basil leaves are dry and crisp under his touch, settled next to the dried rose with its delicate petals. Nick touches the scale from Shyvana very cautiously - it’s sharp; he’d tested it on a callus on his hand, and though the serrations mean touching it won’t slice into his fingers, he should be careful anyway. But it’s not the scale that warms the materials around it, even though Shyvana’s draconian magic had been what Nick first suspected.

Instead, the charm from Bard is what is warm under his fingers. The wood is smooth through the sachet, and Nick is glad the engraved pattern in the shape of Bard’s mask hasn’t worn away yet. The warmth, though, is curious.

Just to check, just in case, Nick nudges the maw of the little bag open and slides the charm out. It still has that beautiful, otherworldly warmth to it.

Nick’s eyes widen as he sees.

The charm- it’s not wooden and simple any more, but rather a light golden colour, like the liquid in the portals Bard used, and its weight would indicate that it has changed its entire self to be made of this smooth, almost-but-not-quite metallic material rather than the light, airy wood it once was. Is it a symbol of something? Why did it change? Confused, Nick utters a few of the simple spells Tim had taught him under his breath.

“Lumia aure,” he says softly, a spell for golden light, and true to form, a thumbnail-sized orb the colour of sunshine floats out in front of him.

But the charm does not change. Nick waves his hand through the orb to dissolve it back into magic once more.

“Alchema crea,” Nick tries next. No result, though that may simply be because Nick hasn’t quite figured out alchema yet. Tim says it can change items’ appearances as long as they’re near the caster, and crea should reset items to the state they were in when they were created, but nothing happens.

Maybe this isn’t an alchema spell, or anything like Tim and Nick’s normal brand of earthy, mortal-coil magic. Maybe it’s something else.

Nick still doesn’t know what to think about the Spirit Realm and the gods and goddesses of this world, if he’s being honest. The Spirit Realm had been gorgeous, but Nick hasn’t had the chance to get away and try to go there again. He’s been working with Tim or Jus or Oskar all day the last two days, and there’s no real time to spare. Too much for him to learn, too much for him to handle these last two days without adding on his urge to understand the Spirit Realm completely. It was beautiful, but are all places like that? Is there ugliness and hurt and anger in the Spirit Realm, or is it perfect? What about death? How can Nick go back to the Spirit Realm again? Is it simply a matter of picking the right little nook in the sides of buildings? Or is there more to be taught, more than just figuring it out as he goes?

So many questions...

One thing, though, he is now more certain of.

The gods’ plans for him are not quite done yet.

\---

“Hey, Tim and Nick - if you wanna take over the shop for an hour until closing, Jus and I were gonna get started on dinner,” calls Oskar into the garden. It’s later in the day, late enough that the sun has started to noticeably set, and Nick has moved on from checking over the trees to helping Tim push the last few seeds into the ground where they’ll grow and sprout in a week or two, provided it doesn’t frost and kill them through the blanket Tim and Nick have laid out over the little plants.

Tim and Nick look at each other. Nick nods, and so Tim shouts a “Okay! We’ll be there in a bit!” back at Oskar and stands up.

With one slender hand, Tim reaches down to where Nick still sits holding his shears and holds out his hand. It makes Nick’s face flush pink, but he accepts the offer of help in standing, and Tim pulls him to his feet with a sweet smile that worsens Nick’s horrid blush. Softly, Nick giggles. Tim politely lets go of his hand before they walk back to the shop itself, but not even that gets rid of the memory of Tim’s callused hand in his, warm and gentle and with every touch full of a kind of love Nick can’t explain. It’s not ostentatious, but quiet and steadfast and gentle, the way Tim cares for Nick even through helping him in the shop and the way Nick tends to the garden with deep fondness for what Tim loves.

A mutual exchange.

A mutual connection.

Nick tries to keep the sappy smile off his face as he follows Tim in hanging up his gardening skirt, putting on his shop apron, and taking their places next to each other behind the counter, in the beginnings of an effortless unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! <3


	17. Affogato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sundays being slow with only a quiet group on their coffee date, Tim cleans out the attic with Nick's help and sets up a sparse living space. The dust makes Nick sneeze, so while Jus is cleaning, he and Tim pick herbs for a new set of protection wards and scents and good vibes charms.  
> But as night falls, Tim finds himself a little sleepless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit late but you know what we take those

Quietly, Tim shuffles his tired feet as he scrubs down the countertop. It’s been a day - not necessarily a longer one than normal, but he and Nick had worked for two low-traffic hours in a row today, which is double what they’ve done so far. Still, working with Nick makes it better than working with Jus and Oskar, who work seamlessly around Tim but never really with him, or by himself, which is a situation so stressful and exhausting that Tim needs to curl up in bed with a nice gardening book and a cup of tea and a duelling stream to listen to as he reads. At least like this he has someone to chat to as they work.

Speaking of work- “Tim,” Nick says softly, touching Tim’s shoulder with a faint yet attention-snatching touch, “are we low on vanilla syrup? I think we’re low on vanilla syrup.”

Glancing to the countertop, Tim notes that Nick is right. “And the caramel and chocolate,” he observes. “I’ll write that down.” Throughout it all, they’re starting to make their own little rhythm of gestures, Tim notices. Nick touches his shoulder and they chat quietly, speaking in low tones into each other’s ears, and then one of them goes to do something while the other makes himself busy with another task, whether it’s Nick making drinks while Tim takes orders and doles out food or Tim scribbling down notes of what must be done tomorrow as Nick cleans dishes.

It’s a Sunday, the perfect day to do some house-cleaning since business is so much slower at night, and so Jus and Oskar have made themselves busy getting soaps and a bucket of water to mop and dry. Miss Molly is very gently cajoled into cleaning up in the attic alongside them. For now, Tim and Nick stay in the shop - someone needs to be standing there, anyway, just in case a late customer comes by and theoretically to watch over Aaron and Andrew and Laure and Eefje as well. None of them would actually mess anything up, but still. It just seems kind of rude to desert them in the coffeeshop, without even a barista at the counter.

By now, Tim recognises Aaron and Andrew well enough despite never really having spoken to them. They’re both mild-mannered men, though from the playful arguments Tim overhears, Andrew is much more mischievous than his shy, geeky appearances let on. Well, at least he’s shy and geeky for a merman. Aaron, on the other hand, seems relatively reserved and polite, though if anyone is rude within King’s Crown and Aaron overhears it, he’s bold enough to speak his mind, which is more than Tim can say for himself.

However they ended up together, that unlikely - or maybe rather likely? - pairing between a merman water wizard and a human water-wizard-slash-doctor is rather sweet. They go on coffee dates so often, Andrew using his well-trained magic to draw water along with him in just the right amount to "swim" through air and Aaron constantly spouting magical studies that interest him, that Jus considers them friends and regulars. Tim only knows them in their status as regulars.

Either way, they’re a nice couple, and Tim occasionally finds himself being envious of their success and love and perseverance.

The same goes for Laure and Eefje. They’re a well-known power couple in the city, almost as well-known as Enrique and Lauri, and Eefje’s journalism combined with Laure’s editorial prowess makes their newspaper the most prominent in the region. Still, both women always seem to find time to share a coffee in the shop and relax with each other, or on their weekly double date with Aaron and Andrew. They make polite conversation as Tim takes their orders and cuts slices of strawberry shortcake for them and Nick makes two affogatos, and then Laure and Eefje sit with Aaron and Andrew to chat. As far as Tim can tell, they’re friends from their school days, and they still meet up to chat every week.

Tim smiles softly. He has friends like those, too - the same friends who bustle by with an extra broom for the dust, Oskar hip-checking Jus as they ascend the stairs and frantically catching him when he nearly falls. With a glance at Nick to see if he caught a glimpse of that, too, Tim chuckles.

Nick giggles as well, and all is warm in Tim’s heart.

\---

After another half an hour or so, Laure, Eefje, Aaron and Andrew get up to leave, thanking Jus, Tim and Nick on their way out, since Oskar is absent at the moment. Tim goes through the motions of closing up the shop with Nick at his side. They get a quick dinner of leftover chicken and vegetables and then, it’s off to cleaning as best as they can without taking all the stuff stored in the attic out and then putting it back.

First is the dusting. Spiders aren’t really a problem, though Tim personally doesn’t like them in his room and would rather relocate them to the great outdoors, but the cobwebs are less than ideal, so Tim carefully uses a levia spell to lift his duster high up, beyond his reach. It provides a nice opportunity to sneak in some extra magic training for Nick, too. From there, Tim decides that Jus is probably more adept at handling the attic and sweeping and mopping the decently dusty floors. Jus is particular about his sweeping, anyway, so Tim won’t interfere with the process. Besides, as they clean the attic, Nick starts to sneeze. “I think I’m a bit allergic to dust,” he jokes during a break in a sneezing fit. “Is there anything else we need to do?”

“Nothing for you,” Jus says decisively. “Oskar and I can get the rest of this, and Miss Molly will mop up so there’s less dust around.

“We can go make charms and wards instead,” Tim suggests, already with some plants for protection in mind. “All the rooms here have them except the attic. I never quite got to it.”

“Sounds good,” Nick says with kindness, and he follows Tim without question.

Together, they poke through kitchen drawers and pantry corners, searching fruitlessly for twine to tie the protective wards together and a spare crystal or two for enchanting with positive energy - obviously, that would require visiting a gem-smith, but no need to worry, Tim knows one on the other side of town, and he’s sure he has a few gems still lying around that he can set on the windowsill of the attic.

They find a little collection of them in a miscellaneous bin in the pantry, just next to the cellar staircase, where all sorts of little knickknacks end up. Surprisingly enough, they’re all in decent condition. Maybe this was where Tim put them oh so long ago, when he used to do more crystal magic, and since forgot where he left all his crystals. Either way, Tim makes a mental note of the bin’s location, and Nick selects a few pieces of coloured quartz for his windowsill. Along the way back into the kitchen, Tim finally finds the twine! He thanks Zyra under his breath and helps Nick pick out proper protection herbs that smell nice and ward off bugs and evil, then ties the herbs into neat bundles that can hang from the ceiling to perfume and cleanse the air. Sitting at the shop tables is nice, especially as the sun sets and the pretty ceiling lights shine down and Nick and Tim’s hands work in tandem to make the wards.

Piercing through the serendipity comes a sharp shriek from upstairs and a flash of red-orange-white light.

When Tim looks back at Nick, he’s staring confusedly at the staircase, the source of the noise and light. “I’ll go check it out,” Tim says with a little chuckle. Overhead, the sounds of a mild argument, the kind Jus and Oskar have often enough, echo through the floorboards of the floor above and into the ceiling over Nick and Tim, and Nick giggles, too.

“I’ll go, too,” Nick says. “We’ve got the- the wards? finished up anyway, I think?” he adds, and as Tim looks down, he realises Nick really had finished them all. Each little bundle of dried lavender and rosemary and one pretty flower, different in each bundle, is tied tightly together with a neat bit of twine.

“Oh, those look great!” Tim chirps. “If you carry those, I’ll carry the twine,” and they take their supplies with them as they head upstairs to investigate.

When they finally come within sight of Oskar and Jus again, Jus’s face is bright red with a mix of embarrassment and mild fury, and Oskar snickers between apologies and waving one of his hands wildly in the air as though to cool it. “What happened?” Tim asks curiously, fingers fidgeting with the twine in his hands.

“This idiot,” Jus begins fiercely, “grabbed a spider, and shoved it in my face!” Little sparks of angry orange magic flicker around and in Jus’s eyes as Nick and Tim watch on.

With a half-chiding but mostly amused expression, Oskar shrugs. “He zapped it and my fingers, so I think we’re even,” he says. “Sorry, Juuus,” Oskar adds, dragging out his apology and making sad puppy eyes at Jus in a way that is sure to convince Jus to forgive him and Tim and Nick to leave the room as quickly as possible, and so they do.

“Are they always so...”

“Chaotic?” Tim suggests, finishing Nick’s sentence for him. Nick nods, and so, “yeah,” Tim answers, “pretty much. They’re fun though.”

“How long have you known them?” Nick asks as they ascend the stairs through the trapdoor to the attic.

“Since I was ten or so,” Tim answers, “at least with Jus. We met Oskar in uni.” Jus, on the other hand, is one of the few people who didn’t mind letting Tim into his friend group in boarding school, where Tim was suddenly one of the most average students among a class of hyper-talented magic-users.

“Oh, that’s cool,” says Nick plainly. “It’s good to have friends like that.”

“It is,” Tim answers just as simply, and without further ado, they set their minds on setting up the attic.

Working together, the task of creating and personalising Nick’s space in the house is relatively easy - Nick struggles at first with turning on the glowlamp, commissioned from Tim’s friend Jesper with a magic light inside the teardrop-shaped lamp, small enough to sit stably on the floor and be moved around with ease and yet big enough that Tim needs both hands to hold it, but soon enough Nick understands how to use _lumia lampa_ to set it aglow. From there, it’s just a matter of moving furniture hanging up the wards in corners of the living space, one at each corner and two hanging over the trapdoor entrance, plus one on the windowsill next to the crystals.

It takes both of them to muster enough strength and move the futon stand, since they have to pick it up from the floor and lower it back down just as far. The futon stand is only twenty or thirty centimetres tall, which makes it even harder to move around well. Still, sleeping on the floor for an extended period of time would be horrendous, so it’s worth the effort to get the stand into place. Then, they drape the futon and the duvet over it, and toss a pillow on as well. Nick makes his bed as Tim secures the wards and charms them with protective magic. After that, they push the dresser-drawer into place by the window, and set up the tall lamp at another little table for Nick to use as a desk or for holding whatever things he needs to hold there.

And then it’s done.

With their work complete, Tim and Nick survey the little space Nick now has for himself. It’s cosy, and not particularly high-class, but it’s warm and clean and very convenient for work, and friendship... perhaps more?

Anyway, Tim and Nick smile at each other, and, with nowhere else to sit and nothing else to do, they take their seats on the futon, sprawling their legs out on top of the duvet, and pass the time with idle chatter and gentle nudges and slight touches to each others’ shoulders at good jokes or bad ones.

\---

Time flies by, to be frank, so quickly that Tim almost wonders if Zilean’s grand celestial clocks have gone awry. Before either of them knows it, the sun has set outside Nick’s window. Tim is so caught up in chatting with Nick that he isn’t even the one who notices the time.

“Tim?” Jus asks, poking his head up next to the barely-visible tips of dog ears from the still-open trapdoor, “don’t forget to grab apples and cinnamon sticks at the market tomorrow,” and Tim only then realises how late it is - almost an hour until midnight, and he has to wake up just as early as ever tomorrow.

“I’ll remember,” Tim says.

Jus nods, and he and the dog ears slip down out of sight, presumably going to sleep so they’ll be ready for tomorrow, unlike Tim, who needs more sleep and yet probably will not be getting it tonight.

Oh well. Guess he’ll have to brew some stronger tea, tomorrow.

“I should go back to my own room,” Tim lightly jokes. “Wouldn’t want to keep you up too much longer.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow,” Nick responds just as sweet and casual. “Just as busy as always, I guess.”

Tim hums an agreement. Careful to not mess up Nick’s freshly-made bed, he stands up from the cuddly warmth and into the cool night air - though it is a noticeable degree warmer than it is in his own room, thanks to attic physics. “Well, goodnight,” he says, content with how their day has gone. How could he be anything but happy after such a sweet slice of time shared together?

“Goodnight,” Nick answers with a high, happy lilt in his tone as well. Before Tim quite gets the chance to stand up and leave Nick to sleep, Nick’s arms wind around his shoulders in a quick but caring hug, and Tim, after a moment of surprise, hugs Nick back. He’s just a bit taller than Tim, his chest just a bit broader, his arms just as wiry and his chin just a bit sharp, but his hug is just right for Tim, who knows a pure, simple happiness in Nick’s embrace, and if the air around Tim’s hands sparkles just a little with the rush of giddiness flowing through him, well, no one else is around to notice, and so Tim’s sparkle-surrounded hands press warmly against Nick’s back in return, holding him tight for the few seconds he can.

Then, Tim must hush off to bed. As much as he is loath to leave Nick, he has to get enough sleep for the work ahead of him, as per usual, and just like Jus had said, he needs to go to the market tomorrow, so he’ll have to wake up early and he can’t afford to sleep in an extra hour until Jus and Oskar wake up. With a sigh, Tim showers as quickly as he can and brushes his teeth and blowdries his hair just until it’s not dripping wet. Then, he lies in bed and shuts his eyes, hoping to drift off as quickly as he normally does.

And yet, he cannot.

He is sleepy, that’s for sure.

But he can’t seem to sleep.

Ordinarily, Tim would give in and just make a cup of hot lavender tea, breathing deep lungfuls of the lavender scent to soothe his senses before he slept and enchanting the tea with plentiful sleep magic to help himself doze off. But now... Maybe there’s a different option? Maybe something else could fill an hour or so of his sleepless night?

Maybe Nick is still awake.

And anyway, Tim should go see just in case, too, to make sure Nick is settling in okay. On light steps and feet clad in some poorly hand-knit socks, Tim sneaks past Jus and Oskar’s door to the stairway to the attic. The trapdoor is still propped wide open, the same way Jus had set it up to peek in at first, and so Tim manages to catch a glimpse of a soft light in the shadows.

“Nick?” Tim whispers like a conspiring child up past his bedtime, checking to see if someone else might be awake with him as he pokes his head up through the trapdoor.

“Tim?” Nick asks in curious, hushed tones. He looks up from his book with first confusion, then a mellow sort of excitement in his eyes, lit by the shining glowlamp still going strong. “Hey, I thought you went to sleep,” he whispers in a soft chuckle.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tim says, as though that explains everything. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Nick answers quickly, already closing his book and scooting over on the futon to make space for Tim to sit next to him.

“Thanks.” Quickly - but of course, not too quickly, lest Nick think Tim is unduly interested in getting in his bed, especially since the way Nick pulled the blankets aside for Tim to sit in rather than just on top of like before seemed like a lovely invitation - Tim sits down next to Nick, leaning his back against the wall behind them and doing his best not to blush as Nick tosses the blankets over his legs. “You couldn’t sleep either?” he asks, hoping Nick doesn’t feel uncomfortable in their house.

“Not really,” says Nick, and a jolt of worried sadness runs through Tim’s body. But, Nick continues, “I don’t sleep all that much, to be honest. I get like, three hours of sleep when the sun sets, three hours just before it rises, and usually three hours in the middle of the day. But usually I skip the midday stuff.”

Well, that doesn’t sound healthy at all, but then again, not everyone is so lucky as to sleep through the night - or the day, if they’re nocturnal. Tim knows plenty of vampires who can’t sleep when the sun is high in the sky, and lots of customers whose morning coffees are meant to help them recover after sleepless nights. “So you probably won’t sleep well tonight?” Tim wonders. He’s already disturbed Nick’s first three hours of sleep of the night. He would hate to be a bother and interrupt the rest of it.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Nick says, putting at least a little of Tim’s worry to bed. “Since I don’t sleep during the day any more, I sleep a little longer at night.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I’ll be fine, Tim,” says Nick with a sincere smile, turning his head to look Tim in the eye.

“Alright,” Tim sighs, smiling, too. “Do you sleep well when you sleep, at least?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Nick answers unsurely. “I always feel rested when I wake up.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure. You were moving a lot I think,” Tim recalls, “a few nights ago.”

“Oh, really? Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry.” Tim chuckles at the memory of Nick’s paddling feet and his kneading hands. “It was kind of funny, honestly. Like, your hands and feet moved like a cat.”

For a moment, Nick says nothing. “A cat?” he squeaks at last.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, at least,” Tim murmurs, like he’s thinking out loud. He tries not to read too much into the tense tones of Nick’s voice - gods know how tight and discomforted Tim’s voice sounds when he’s startled or confused, so he shouldn’t think too much of Nick’s little squeak, either. “Do you know if your parents or grandparents are part ixtal or vastaya?”

“No. They’re not.” Nick says it definitively, so Tim dismisses the possibility. It could be something further along his lineage, of course, but with close relatives eliminated, the chances get rather small, no?

“Oh, okay. Maybe just a weird dream you were having, then,” he supposes.

“Yeah, I guess so.” In Nick’s hands, the fabric of the futon duvet twists and bunches up. Tim mentally shrugs if off - it’s late, so they’re probably both a little susceptible to old habits they normally block out. “Are you part something?” Nick asks eventually.

“Supposedly my great-grandma was a wolf vastaya,” Tim answers, “but I don’t think I have any of that in me. My brother gets along well with wolves, though.” Seb always seems to have all the magic power, huh. Maybe that’s just Tim’s old, old hurt and scars aching, though. Of course, now Seb could never do what Tim does, and Tim never could do what Seb did, so they’re more equal thanks to the passage of time.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he can talk to them even though he never was taught,” Tim says.

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“And his familiar is a wolf.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Do you like wolves?”

“I don’t know,” Nick says, folding his arms and seeming to think about it, trying to form an opinion or recall what he knows. “I’ve never really been near one.”

“Oh, I see.”

Aimlessly, Tim’s feet point and flex alternately under the covers, making a playful little rhythm that Nick soon copies and soon they’re moving their feet in time with each other, giggling like fools when one of them speeds up and the other tries to follow until their muscles protest and they dissolve into hushed laughter.

Of course, like all sentiments in the sleepy haze of night, their giggles quickly fade into a warm part of the fog, and Tim can feel Lillia’s sleepy spells and dream dust starting to tug at his eyelids, though he fights her away for now. “Tim?” asks Nick, keeping Tim awake.

“Yes?”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he says softly, vulnerably, “what’s it like to have a familiar?”

“I think it’s different for everyone,” Tim answers slowly. “Like... me and Dracarys weren’t like Jus and Oskar at all, and Miha and Eclipse and Bloodmoon are totally different, too.”

“Miha?”

“Oh. Mihael, sorry.” Whoops.

“Oh, I see.” Nick falls silent again. Only now does Tim realise that they’ve scooted closer together than they were when they started - much closer, actually. Their arms are brushing against each other. How did Tim not notice that? “What was it like for you?” Nick asks, knocking Tim out of his warm, fuzzy thoughts. “Sorry if I’m being nosy, I just... I don’t know. I never really thought about all this magic stuff before and I guess I’m just curious.”

“Well... Dracarys was my best friend,” Tim says, breathing deep to make sure he won’t cry. “She actually saved my life, once,” he adds with a fond, wistful smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah- I mean, it happened before she was my familiar, but that’s mostly why I kept working with her, and then... yeah. That’s kind of how that happened.”

“Is it okay if I ask how?” Nick says politely. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too hard.”

“No, it’s okay. I, uh... well, long story short I’m not that good with magic,” Tim says. “I mean, I’m good, but compared to people at the school I went to, I was stupid. Especially compared to my brother.” He chuckles dourly. “And so, you know how it goes, the weak kid gets bullied. There are these magic lock puzzles you can solve if you can use magic well enough, but I could hardly ever solve them, so... one day,” he continues, fighting down a lump in his throat, “three kids got me outside after classes were done for the day. I got locked to the back of the library, couldn’t get free. It started raining, too, so it was really cold. And I get cold really easily, so... yeah.” He shudders at the memory, doing his best to subtly hide the tears that have welled up in his eyes. It’s probably his worst memory. The fear, the helplessness, the desperate hope someone would notice him stuck out there in the rain... He really had wanted to do nothing more than go home from school and cry in his mother’s arms, after that happened.

“Were you okay?” Nick asks softly, his sadness and worry written in his eyes.

“Mostly,” Tim says with a shrug that attempts to be nonchalant and mostly looks deeply sad. “Hypothermia and mild pneumonia, kept me in the hospital ward at boarding school for four days.” At least it was warm, there, and safe from anyone who would hurt him, and after that day, his bullies mostly stopped bothering him for fear of accidentally killing him.

“Oh, gods...” Nick murmurs.

“Dracarys is the one who unlocked me and got help when I didn’t really move,” Tim recalls, smiling softly at the memory despite how bad it is. “She said I was colder than a kitten left out in the snow.”

“Oh, Tim... That sounds awful.”

Briefly, Tim glances at Nick’s face, wondering if it’s pity or simple sadness written on Nick’s face. Instead, where he’s expecting pity, there is something close to love and anger, and instead of sadness, there’s grief, a deeper sort of grieving than Tim normally sees. It’s a grieving for what could have been, if Nick were only there, maybe, or for what Nick could have done to save Tim, if he’d only known as a child that another child whose adult form he would grow close to were in danger. Tim looks away. That unnameable emotion feels too raw to stare at.

“It was pretty bad.” Tim chuckles apathetically, resting his eyes on the floorboards of the attic, illuminated by starlight. “But I’m okay, I’m here now, so that’s all that matters to me.”

As Tim keeps his eyes fixed on the floor, he feels a light touch to his shoulder, like the touches he and Nick share in the shop to speak in little rhythms, and as he turns back to Nick, Nick’s arms wrap around him, holding him close again. “Sorry,” Nick mumbles into Tim’s shoulder. When Tim turns to look at him as best as he can from such close proximity, Nick looks dejected. “I just... that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.” He squeezes Tim once more. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” Tim says reassuringly, “that was ages ago, I’m fine now, obviously.” Patting Nick’s back, Tim lightly rocks them back and forth, enjoying the feeling of Nick’s solid warmth in his arms. “I probably like being warm more than normal, but that’s about it.”

Nick seems to stare thoughtfully at him, tracing over Tim’s features in the same way Tim had gazed at his heart through his eyes just moments before. “Sorry,” says Nick meekly, hugging Tim tight once more. “I, um- well- I’ll do my best to keep you warm.”

“I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job,” Tim answers with a little giggle.

“Well, good,” Nick murmurs. He carefully lets go of Tim, and they lean back against the wall, watching the sky through the window.

“Do you want to lie down?” Nick asks after a little peaceful while has passed. “You look like you’re getting all sleepy,” he adds with a little giggle.

“Oh!” Embarrassingly, Tim can feel his face flush warm, though maybe that’s just another wave of sleepiness washing over him. “I don’t want to accidentally fall asleep,” he mumbles, though falling asleep next to Nick wouldn’t be a bad thing at all, “and if I lie down I’ll probably drift off.”

“That’s okay,” Nick shrugs. “I don’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable. And I’ll remember to wake you up tomorrow, if you want.” Is this Nick’s way of asking him to stay the night?

“If you’re sure it’s fine,” Tim says, just once more, just one last chance for Nick to send him away if he’s not wanted tonight.

And then, despite Tim’s fears, Nick giggles and adjusts the blankets and lays down at his side, and Tim quickly follows suit so they lie there, faces close but not facing towards each other, staring blankly at the ceiling and enjoying the tingly, almost too-noticeable warmth of the proximity of the other. There’s plentiful layers of fabric between then, and yet Tim can feel every shift as though he and Nick were somehow linked beyond that, or that they managed to build a familiar-witch bond despite just being two humans. To be fair, it’s probably just the warmth of Nick’s skin so close to his, and the sensation of almost-snuggling Nick rather than anything magical, though, from this close, Tim can feel Nick’s magic. It’s gentle and soft, a barely-noticeable sensation like walking in from the cool air of the hallway to a room full of sleepy warmth. Something about it is fuzzy, too, soft and fuzzy. It’s a nice feeling.

Tim yawns with his late-night sleepiness. Admittedly, it isn’t that late, not for typical extroverted people his age or for the multitudes of uni students putting together the building blocks for their hangovers tomorrow, but it’s late for a boy who usually wakes up at 4 in the morning.

“Sleepy?” Nick asks in a whisper that makes Tim glad to be close enough to hear it, like it’s just for him and no one else gets to hear, even though there’s no secret but how lovely it sounds.

“Yeah,” Tim mumbles. He rests his head on the pillow, not even noticing or caring that there’s only one for the two of them in Nick’s bed.

“Should I stop bothering you and let you go sleep?”

“No, I’m okay,” Tim says resolutely even as his eyes droop shut. Quickly, he pinches himself to stay awake just a little bit longer.

“Okay,” Nick answers, chuckling. He sits up to reach over Tim and pull the glowlamp closer across the floor, then adjusts its brightness with varying levels of success over the handful of times he tries. Eventually he gets close enough to dimming it the way he wants that he just leaves it and flops back down at Tim’s side, and Tim is glad for it.

“What kind of games do you like?” Tim asks the first question that pops into his mind in a vain attempt to ward off sleep just a little longer.

“Hm?” says Nick in response. Maybe he, too, is falling asleep. Maybe Tim actually did fall asleep for a few minutes, and so he startled Nick by waking up.

“Like, board games or magic games,” Tim clarifies. “I kind of just realised I never really asked about that.”

“I don’t know, actually. I used to play card games a lot,” Nick answers.

“We should play, then. After Mabon, we’ll have a lot of free time.”

“Mabon?”

“Second harvest festival,” says Tim. “ ‘S not as big as Lunasa,” he mumbles, “we just make extra pies and some rosemary candles to sell, so there’s not much time beforehand. And Jus likes making squash soup to celebrate, which means he’s busy. Takes a while t’ make squash soup.”

“Oh, I see,” Nick says gently. “The fall equinox. What do you do at Mabon?”

“Eat with family and friends, relax. We close the shop after the lunch rush and take the rest of the day off and play games or watch duelling matches.”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Nick says with a sort of light, dreamy tone in his voice, or perhaps that’s just Tim hearing him through a dream.

“It is,” he answers anyway. “I buy apples and we make caramel apples.” They’re his favourite of all the delicious fall treats - crisp and tart apples with a thin layer of chewy, sweet caramel, and maybe even some chocolate on top...

“I haven’t had a caramel apple in a long time,” says Nick. “That’ll be fun.”

“Mhm. I make them in slices because it’s easier to eat.” Tim doesn’t really know why he says it. Maybe his sleepy brain is getting a bit out of hand.

“That takes more work, no?” Nick indulges Tim in his drowsy mumblings, encouraging him with words and a soft smile.

“Not that much. Just slicing the apples. It’s better than slicing the apples afterwards to eat them,” Tim grumbles into the pillow beneath his head.

“True.”

“And you just skewer the apples and dip them in the caramel all at once. So it doesn’t take that long at all.”

“Mhm,” Nick agrees.

“Mhm,” Tim mindlessly repeats.

“Do you like chocolate? Or caramel?” Tim asks. By now, he’s definitely way too sleepy to really be awake; his voice sounds all wrong, all pitchy and senseless, trending higher and higher in notes and then back down to earth without rhyme or reason when normally he keeps his voice steady and simple.

“Not sure,” says Nick, not seeming to mind how loopy Tim gets when he’s so tired as he is now. “Probably both.”

“I’ll make caramel ones with chocolate drizzle for you,” Tim decides. There’s about a 25% chance he won’t remember this particular promise tomorrow, but that’s alright. Nick can remind him, and then Tim will make chocolate-drizzled caramel-dipped apple slices with the best apples he can find at the market, and they’ll taste so good, and Nick will love them and he’ll be happy Tim made them and it’ll be such a good Mabon and they’ll be so happy and they can play games and be happy and watch Seb duel and cheer and be happ-

Before Tim’s mind can fall into the delirium of sleep, Nick chimes in. “That sounds really good.”

“Mhm,” Tim hums once more, and softly, Nick chuckles.

It’s just a little rush of air, a slight bit more of Nick’s warm magic near him as it puffs up with happiness and then settles back down close to Nick’s skin, and yet it’s the sweetest sound Tim’s sleepy brain has ever heard, besides Dracarys’s happy meows and Shadow’s purring. Tim sleepily giggles in return, his eyes shut to the world and his senses wrapped up in the futon’s warmth and the rain-like smell on Nick’s hoodie.

\---

“Tim?” says a quiet, quiet whisper after an unknown amount of time has passed and the warmth of sleep and Nick has enveloped Tim’s consciousness.

“Huh?” answers Tim blearily, not even opening his eyes.

“Sorry, go back to sleep,” Nick whispers.

“Nnkay,” Tim agrees, though it’s not much of a choice when sleep is already overtaking him.

“Goodnight,” Nick says with hardly more voice than a breath of air.

“ ‘Night,” Tim answers, and then he’s off to sleep once more, and he knows nothing but Nick’s soft hoodie under his fingertips and the soft blanket atop them and the soft bed they share and the soft touch of Nick’s hands through his hair.

\---

Another guest art this week, from [@CelaenaLoL](https://twitter.com/CelaenaLoL) on Twitter! Aren't Tim and Shadow just so cute together? <3

Give Celaena a follow on Twitter and plenty of likes! She has some other lovely art, too, so be sure to check her out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! follow me on twitter at [@shyverrr_v2](https://twitter.com/shyverrr_v2) for fic updates and if you want to chat ^^


	18. Mocha Latte, Spiced Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Nick wakes up, he and Tim are curled up together on Nick's camp bed. Tim must have fallen asleep rather quickly. The sun isn't yet up, so Nick settles back into the warmth, carefully keeping his hands to himself. He's been a bit lost in thought lately, but that's alright.

Nick’s eyelashes flutter before he realises where he is and shuts them again. If his ears have popped out during the night, he needs to know now, he can’t be making silly mistakes, and so he feels around for them in the magic around his head. Finding them floating there, Nick can be fairly certain there’s no physical appearance of his ears or tail or even whiskers. Lucky him. Now he opens his eyes again, more fully to the world so that all the hues of the early-morning light flood his vision and sparkles of green and blue shine on the walls and floor, reflected off the crystals lining his windowsill, colour his little room of sorts and a soft, fuzzy cloud of airy, golden-brown warmth rests against his cheek. His bed is warm - warm, oh, what a joy to be warm! - and deliciously cuddly, even with the coolness of autumn nights fogging up his window right now.

Something shifts, moving the fluffy cloud with it, and the warmth on Nick’s body moves as well, and then Nick turns his gaze away from the grey-spotted cloud outside his window to his bed, and-

Oh, gods.

Tim is in his bed.

Quickly, Nick takes his hands off of Tim’s shoulders and arms; they must have slipped into more comfortable positions while sleeping. He rolls onto his back, off of his side, to give himself a little more space to breathe without worrying that he’ll wake up Tim somehow. The softness against his cheek - the cloud of Tim’s light, airy hair, still soft and smelling of the shampoo he uses - leaves as Nick’s back settles onto the bed. It returns after a few seconds though. Tim, heat-seeking in his slumber, scoots a little closer to snuggle and sleep. Carefully, Nick holds Tim’s wrist, rotating it just enough so that he can see the face of the watch affixed there.

3:23.

Tim won’t be waking up for at least half an hour more.

With that reassurance in mind, Nick settles down, not to sleep but instead to dream, just for a little bit, about how sweet Tim looks like this. His eyes are shut, so Nick can’t see the beautiful greys of his eyes, but his nose is ever so slightly mushed against Nick’s shoulder and his pretty pink lips are pressed there as well, and the furrow between his brows that sometimes appears when there are particularly rambunctious customers in the shop is completely faded away. Tim yawns once in his sleep, then scoots in ever so slightly more. He really is heat-seeking.

For a moment, Nick wonders why Tim is still with him, until he remembers how they had talked last night. Not even about anything particular, just... talking. About friends, family, Mabon, a few shop things... Anything they thought of. Just... talking.

Nick hasn’t done that in seemingly ages. Probably not since he lived with Brendan. Nick wonders how he’s doing... He may never know, after dropping his old phone into a river. It had taken him so long to scrounge up enough money for a new one that, by then, the data was irrecoverable. Even if he could recover it, that would have come at an extra, higher cost that Nick had turned down in favour of selling the metal parts to an elemental witch who could recycle them. It got him a nice dinner that night, at least, even if he lost all hope of remembering Brendan’s number.

Still, as the sun creeps just over the horizon and its light just barely lightens the blackness outside Nick’s window into a dark grey, Nick finds himself wondering. Brendan was from a well-to-do family; if anything, he’s probably still working for their business, directing shipping and trading with his clever, shrewd fox-ixtal relatives. Nick wonders if he has a family-approved girlfriend, now, or if he’s still closeted and bi and lonely, or if he’s even started a family. He’s about Nick’s age... if he and his possibly-real wife wanted to push for a child, they probably could. Or maybe he’s like Nick, caught in a curious dance of flirtation with someone whom he admires and whom his family have marked as acceptable. Of course, Brendan would have much less and much more freedom than Nick, who is restrained by his own guilt that still seems to stick to his bones and yet is free of filial obligations.

Maybe he’ll see Brendan again someday.

For now, though, Nick’s attention turns back to the beautiful boy in his bed. Tim looks so adorable like this, like a porcelain doll or a painting, with how pale his skin is and how pretty his lips and dark his lashes are against his cheeks. Gently, Nick brushes a thumb against Tim’s cheek, feeling the soft, barely-there fuzz and giggling silently when Tim hums and hides his face in Nick’s shoulder.

Sometimes Nick wonders how Tim still manages to be interested in him. They haven’t even gone on a date, yet, and Nick wonders if he should just cave in and ask him, since he can’t see the situation improving at all. It’s not like he can just randomly tell Tim he’s Shadow.

Keeping a secret like that for all his life wouldn’t be the worst thing Nick has done, either...

Well, it’s just a thought. Nick doesn’t need to do anything about it just yet. They can keep snuggling and sharing warmth on cold nights for a while, and working together through the days.

And then he remembers that Oskar and Jus know.

What if they tell Tim? What if they ruin everything?

Oh, how could Nick have been so stupid as to let them know so easily! He could have lied, or tried something, or pretended to be clueless, anything but just give in and tell them who he is and what he is. In his head, his thoughts whirl in a loop of hatred and anger that he can’t break out of; he’s horrid and stupid and useless, and slurs for ixtals like him float through his mind, all daggers used against himself.

He only manages to break free of his downward spiral of thoughts when Tim yawns and shifts in his sleep again, looking like he’s less and less lost in his dreams by the minute, and, very gently, Nick checks Tim’s watch again.

3:48.

Blearily, Tim’s eyes blink open to face Nick. Just when Nick is starting to blush pink, worried that Tim will be confused or upset or grumpy that they’re so close together, a soft-hearted, warm, sweet sleepy smile crests over Tim’s face like a sunrise. “Morning,” Tim mumbles.

“Good morning,” Nick answers quietly. Hesitantly, his hands start and stop mid-air, then decide to just go for it and brush a lock of Tim’s hair out of his eyes, and if he’s also maybe doing it to finally feel if Tim’s hair is as soft and airy and light as it looks in his hands as well as against his cheek. Tim blinks up at him when Nick’s hands touch his hair.

“Thanks,” Tim murmurs once Nick is done sweeping his hair to the side, even as tufts fall back down. “Sorry, I’m a bit clingy when I’m asleep,” he excuses himself, scooting back so that he isn’t pressed up against Nick’s body as they lay there in bed. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” says Nick. “Did you?”

Tim nods and smiles, rubbing bits of dust out of the corners of his eyes. “Was warm,” he says. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.” His hands are curled up in cute, loose fists resting against Nick’s chest, not quite clinging to his sleeping hoodie but certainly rather close, and excitement bubbles through Nick’s chest like a blueberry fizz.

“Yeah, no problem,” Nick says with a grin. With another yawn, Tim peels himself away from Nick’s side and sits up.

“Guess we should start getting ready for work, huh?” he asks rhetorically, watching as Nick sits up next to him.

“Guess so,” Nick says. He already misses Tim’s warmth, but perhaps there will be more of that to end this day, and so he doesn’t linger on the emptiness for too long at all, instead following Tim out of bed and changing his clothes after Tim heads to his own room to do the same.

“Hey, Jus, when’s Mabon, again?” Tim asks over his masala chai latte, sucking the foam off the top and sipping from the sweet, spiced tea underneath. He’s decided to sit on one of the cushy chairs in the corner booth, today, since he and Nick had finished up most of their prep rather quickly and have a few minutes of peace before Tim must head off to market and Nick helps Jus and Oskar during the morning rush.

“Tomorrow,” Jus says, sounding utterly unprepared for the day with a raspy, early-morning voice as he starts sipping his coffee. Nick grabs his drink from Oskar, a helpful jolt of caffeine to start the day, and sits next to Tim in the booth with it.

“Oh. Sooner than I thought,” Tim says quietly. He takes another drink of his tea and watches his feet as they flex up and down, up and down, in alternating patterns. “Guess we have tomorrow off, then.” He gives Nick a little smile and licks milk foam off his lips, and Nick chuckles and drinks more of his plain black coffee.

When they’re done sipping and having quiet, awkward early-morning chats, Nick takes Tim’s mug to rinse it out, since Tim has to gather his baskets and find wherever he stored his autumn coat so he can brave the chill for fresh, crisp apples at the market. Mabon... now that’s a thought. Nick hasn’t celebrated Mabon since living with a friend after uni. They’d been best friends, him and Brendan, until Brendan’s parents found out Nick was bi and decided to move their son across the world for “business reasons.” But anyway. Mabon had been fun, that one time, with homemade candles that turned out lopsided and burning sage down to bits that scorched their fingertips. It makes Nick smile, just thinking about it, and this Mabon promises to be even better. So many festivals and fun things to celebrate... this life is so lovely.

Nick wishes the gods would just give him an easy way to stay with Tim forever, though it seems their ranks are divided with how Nick sometimes has great boons and other times nearly ruins it all with Tim.

He only realises he’s left the water running aimlessly over the mug in his hands for minutes when Oskar accidentally bumps into him on his way to grab a spoon to stir sugar into his coffee. With a jolt, Nick shuts the water off and sets all the mugs he’d rinsed to dry on the drying rack. Weird. Usually he’s always careful to never let his guard slip, or to get too lost in thought, lest he forget to keep his cat-side strictly restrained from making any sort of appearance, these days. Maybe he’s just slept poorly. He did stay up late, so perhaps that is the reason why he’s a bit out of sorts today.

Yes, that’s probably all it is.

For the morning, Tim leaves; Nick has to stay busy in the shop anyway, so he doesn’t have much time to miss Tim, and making drinks alongside Oskar is a welcome distraction. Oskar points out whom the orders belong to and pours cups of coffee while Nick makes the espresso-based drinks and practices his latte art on the to-go-drinks, where any abominations will be hidden under the cup lid. Jus mans the front of the counter, taking customers’ orders and doling out muffins for breakfasts and sandwiches for busy workers’ lunches. It’s a busy day, but nothing overwhelming. Tim returns a few hours later, once the morning rush has dwindled into a trickling of uni students of all different shapes and sizes, from tall centaurs and giantkin who have to duck their heads to fit through the door to tiny faeries that buy coffee by the thimbleful and pay with coins conjured out of thin air. As soon as Tim has returned and the morning rush fully dies down, Nick hangs up his shop apron and exchanges it for his gardening apron, doing his best to ignore the chill despite how thin his hoodie has been worn down to.

They have a quick lunch together, just spare sandwiches that are on the verge of being too old to sell with apples Tim had bought from the orchard farmer at the market that morning. Crisp and juicy, they drip with sweetness, and Nick finds himself lapping up the juice from the divots he bites into the apple more than once. Besides those, Tim has also brought back a big basket full of tart apples, the perfect kind to bake with or dip in honey or caramel, and he talks about how excited he is to make caramel apples for Nick.

Tim is so, so cute.

After their lunch, it’s into the shop with them. There’s a sweethearted selkie that Jus and Oskar are helping, whose skin has been torn and who suffers magical lapses and pains because of it. As far as Nick can tell, one part of the treatment is drinking healing-magic-suffused potions, and so Jus and Oskar have taken their leave from the shop to enchant a special potion for her. Nick isn’t really sure of the details, but he has to stay in the shop and run it with Tim for a little while, and so they handle the sprinkling of customers that pop in throughout the afternoon and the little crowd of high-schoolers who buy drinks and play cards in the corner booth.

Most of their customers are nondescript. There’s many more different types of ixtal and vastaya and faeries and fae and other magical peoples here than there ever were where Nick first grew up, but that’s not surprising at this point, and he’s gotten used to the wonderful diversity over his years living and working in this beautiful city.

Some, however, almost give Nick pause. A tall, sylph-like woman floats in through the door yet again, practically commanding attention from everyone in the shop despite not making hardly a sound, and Nick, too, stares at her in awe for a moment. It’s something about her magic, strong, and otherworldly, and full of a power mortal magic simply doesn’t have. He blinks, then snaps out of it and keeps cleaning mugs.

“Oh, hey Janna,” Tim says with a smile, and finally, Nick knows her name. It’s the storyteller, the one who had spoken at Lunasa with her magic assistant by her side and later gotten coffee from them. Her eyes have happy crow’s-feet lines along the corners of her eyes, and her hair floats in a long, white trail behind her. Little gusts of wind brush against Nick’s cheeks as they rush to keep her hair in place, and she smiles with a breezy warmth and sky-blue eyes.

“Hello, Tim! How are you?” she says sweetly. By the way she rises and falls ever so slightly in the air and how flowy her long sweater-dress is, Nick assumes her feet don’t even touch the ground.

“I’m doing well. How are you?”

“Very good as well, just back from the Spirit Realm,” says Janna, and oh, she must either be a hedge witch, stronger than any Nick has met, or... or a goddess? “A mocha latte, please,” she requests in an airy voice.

“Okay. Nice outfit today,” Tim comments as he puts in the order. Quickly, he points Nick to a recipe on a little laminated card Jus made for him that lists all their drinks and the number of espresso shots, grams of milk, and grams of flavouring syrup. As Tim and Janna make conversation, Nick pulls a shot of espresso and adds an equal amount of chocolate syrup, then starts steaming the milk.

“Thank you! I got it as an offering last Mabon,” Janna says with a conspiratory grin. “I think my lack of fashion sense is starting to bother more people than just Martin and Rasmus,” she giggles, and then her eyes land on Nick, and he quickly straightens his posture in an attempt to live up to her grace. “Oh, why hello!” Janna chirps to him. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself to you yet. I’m Janna, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“This is Nick, he’s helping m- he’s helping us now,” Tim says, stepping slightly to the side to allow Nick to say hi as he carefully pours in the steamed milk for her latte. “Nick, this is Janna. She’s the goddess that lives down the street.”

“Hello!” Janna chirps.

“H-hi,” Nick says meekly, “I’m Nick.” He carefully levels out the paper cup in his hands, then dusts it with cocoa powder for a little extra touch of sweetness and chocolate and sets it in a cardboard sleeve, popping the lid on top for Tim to give to her.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Janna says with a smile. “And Tim isn’t just being sweet either, child, if you’d like a gift to be given straight to the gods, you can trust me! Though I think in your case, it’s the other way around, no?” She chuckles and her hair waves in the air a bit more excitedly, only quieting when she taps it back into floating more slowly, the mass of white strands drifting weightlessly over her head. “Bard, Yuumi and Shyvs all spoke very highly of you,” adds Janna with a sort of pride in her expression for this boy she’s barely met. Nick doubts she’s the one who would look over him - she seems much more like a wind goddess, or something with sylphs and fae magic rather than a caretaker of ixtal like him. Still, she’s kind.

“O-oh, um, thank you,” Nick answers, and he nudges the saucer and cup towards Tim ever so slightly, too meek to pick it up himself. There’s something holding him back, but Nick isn’t really sure what. He doesn’t bother to figure it out right now.

“Here’s your mocha latte, by the way, Janna.” Tim hands her the drink, which she gladly takes, this time with her hands rather than her magic.

“Thank you, child.” She smiles delightedly, warming her hands on the cup’s heat, and, as the bell over the shop’s door jangles with the entry of a new set of customers, a bright-eyed young couple holding the hands of a giggling vastayan child between them, Janna turns. “Well, I suppose I had best be taking my leave. Do keep me up to date on the latest gossip, Tim, child - the wind can’t quite decipher you and your plants.”

“I will, Janna. Thanks for stopping by, have a nice day,” Tim says, sounding more sincere than usual.

“Yes, you too, Tim! And you as well, Nick!”

She waves goodbye as she floats away through the door, then off into the sky, her feet leaving the ground’s proximity and ascending out of the scope of the window.

Before Nick even has time to think about it further, Tim has already taken the next customers’ orders, and he points Nick to a caramel latte and hot chocolate as he pours a coffee with two sugar cubes, and Nick must continue to work even as his thoughts threaten to run wild inside his head again.

Eventually, though, Jus and Oskar have bottled the potions and return to the shop with successful smiles on their faces, relieving Tim and Nick of what little business they’d had at such an hour. With a sigh, Nick happily follows Tim into the garden, putting on a spare coat of Oskar’s that isn’t quite warm enough to keep out the autumn chill and instead gives Nick allergic sneezes. The jittery thump of his heart doesn’t quite cease, though. It keeps going.

As he and Tim pick apples from their own tree and grab a green lemon - that’s still so weird to Nick, green lemons - for pie, Nick tries to figure out what’s wrong. Has his routine changed? Yes, somewhat, but not enough to be worrying. He still eats and sleeps as per usual, with maybe a little less sleep, but he eats more than before and he’s putting on weight healthily. His bones still stick out a lot, but less than before, at least. Is it that he hasn’t shifted in a while? It shouldn’t be, he’s stayed human for the span of several days before, and the same the other way around. In fact, Nick is pretty sure he spent a good month or so last winter as a cat, simply because it was easier to eat and stay warm as a cat. So he shouldn’t be having problems with his shifting magic. Has he been taking his medication?

Nick does his best to remember if he’d downed one of the small white pills that morning or the one before to no avail.

It would seem that is the reason he’s so off lately.

Under the excuse of a quick bathroom break, he snags a pill from the little bottle in his suitcase in the attic, washing it down with a bottle of water he keeps there in case he gets thirsty.

Relief won’t be immediate, of course; it’ll probably take another day or two for the full effect of the dosage to build up again, but it soothes the anxiety about his anxiety for now, and with that taken care of, he returns to Tim’s side. Apples transfer from hand to hand seamlessly, until the lower boughs of the tree are all taken care of and they’re onto higher branches that Nick will have to reach for. He takes much care to not fall - it’s not like he would get hurt, but his instincts would force him to shift.

And he can’t have that.

As he reaches for one more apple, with ripe red streaks over its glossy green, Jus calls for him from the door.

“Oh, Nick- real quick,” says Jus, loud enough for Tim and Nick to hear even from the back of the garden, “the bank has your payments set up, there was an error this week because the system can’t pay retroactively and someone entered in my payment request a bit late. But the next one is in two weeks, so I’ve already added the hours from last week - it’ll just take a bit longer to pay out. Okay?”

Nick nods. That sounds alright, he shouldn’t have problems before then. Thirteen pills, fourteen days... It’ll be okay, hopefully, assuming there aren’t any further problems with the bank. It’s a little scary to run out one day short, but Nick has already been forgetting, so one miss won’t hurt him too badly.

“Do you need spending money?” Jus asks. “I can give you some until the payment goes through, no need to pay me back if it’s just normal stuff.”

Nick thinks on it for a moment, but he should be fine, so he shakes his head, no. “I’ll be fine,” he calls in return, “don’t worry about it.”

With that matter taken care of, Jus gives him a thumbs-up and pops back into the shop from whence he came, and he stays there until the sun sinks down to brush against the horizon and the shop closes. Tim sighs and stretches, shivering just a little in the cooler twilight air. Nick has long since let the chill seep into his bones. The borrowed coat is a nice gesture, but not fuzzy enough to block out the cold in the same way Nick’s cat-form’s coat of fur is, not as thick and warm and windproof. “We should head inside soon,” Tim says, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’ll get cold once the sun goes down.”

“It’s already getting cold,” Nick jokes, but he acquiesces with a soft smile and follows Tim indoors, to the warmth of the shop and the kitchen, where Tim makes them hot spiced tea smelling of cinnamon and cloves. They sit at the table for a little while, sipping tea, chatting occasionally, mostly enjoying the silence after a long day. It’s a nice little break as they warm up.

Suddenly, though perhaps not unexpectedly, Oskar howls with delight as the clock strikes seven and their shop is officially closed for the day. “Alright, guys, tomorrow is Mabon!” Jus cheers, flipping the shop door sign to Closed and shutting off the overhead sign as he steps out into the autumn chill to grab the sidewalk chalkboard and set it by the stairs in its home for the night.

Tim rolls his eyes with a smile at the overexcited display; still, he moves a bit faster than normal to get the basket of apples laid out on the countertop on one side of the sink, with a towel laid out on the other side for drying. “Okay, so we’re making spiced apple tea, apple pie, and caramel apples,” says Tim, all business.

“Dibs on washing apples,” says Oskar immediately.

“I’m making pie!” Jus cheers, “and Oskar will peel apples for me!”

“No I won’t!” Oskar protests, but Tim isn’t hardly paying attention to them any more, so it’s probably just one of those little bickering play-arguments they have every so often just for the fun of it.

“Wanna help me toast spices?” Tim asks sweetly. “And you can slice apples while I dip them?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nick agrees, and they all rapidly settle into their places.

Oh, and Oskar ends up peeling apples despite his hopes otherwise.

By the time the spices are toasted and half of their caramel-apple apples are sliced into neat eighths, the air is filled with the warmth of cinnamon and toasted black pepper and delicious nutmeg, all the wonders of fall and the warmth of a busy kitchen even on a cool day. It makes something warm and achy swell up in Nick’s heart - it’s just so lovely.

As he slices apples at Tim’s side, carefully quartering them and then removing the cores and slicing each quarter in four, Nick can feel something welling up in his eyes. It’s not that he’s sad, or even that he’s seen something heartbreaking. It’s just... so, so, so lovely. So nice to spend time with people, aimlessly, like this; so lovely to be included on a tradition that is already so well-established; so lovely to be brought in as a member of the family without even a second thought.

Gently, he rubs his eye with the back of his hand to push the tears back in.

“Nick? Are you okay?” asks Tim after glancing at Nick.

“Yeah, just a little spice dust got in my eye,” Nick says, still rubbing.

When Nick looks back at Tim, Tim is smiling and giggling and holding up a slice of caramel-coated apple toward Nick. With just as bright of a smile, Nick leans in and takes the apple slice from Tim with his mouth, and they both burst into giggles sweeter than pie, sweeter than hot tea, sweeter than even caramel, and Nick’s world seems to sparkle with a content, happy peace.

\---

Janna! She's so pretty! Thank you so much Hanni <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't proofread this one at all, lmk if there's typos or mistakes! sorry about how late it is T-T
> 
> it's been a bit of a stressful week, not because of things happening but just... because, i guess. i'll try to have the next chapter up on saturday, with proper length this time (this one is shorter than any of the previous chapters by a decent amount, at around 4500 words)
> 
> i hope you enjoyed :)


	19. Hot Chocolate, Cafe au Lait, Pumpkin Pie, Chocolate Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new pov! wooooo

When Mihael wakes up, it is to the sounds of his three alarms.

One digital, beeping away peacefully, which he shuts off with a swift, tired hand.

One dog, woofing from somewhere in the flat he shares, making its presence well-known by barking at the door.

One human, who happens to have the nerve to yell at the dog to be quiet, and whose utterly grating voice is, without a doubt, the worst of all of Mihael’s alarms.

“Morning, babe,” Luka murmurs with a soft kiss to Mihael’s sleepy, puffy cheek.

Mihael mutters something unintelligible. In response, the chimes on Luka’s jacket seem to hum and sound with little, cute noises, encouraging Mihael to get out of bed so he can explore the Spirit Realm with his dear hedge wizard after his schoolteaching is done. Actually, today he’ll be teaching a segment in magic about the Spirit Realm... might as well grab some souvenirs to show to the little toddlers. In the meantime, he rolls out of bed and grumpily starts changing into his outfit for the day - a nice sweater with a scarf and warm, layered skirts. He has to go to market, first, and the fresh autumn air outside will be chilly. Maybe he’ll remove his woolen petticoat before going to teach, if it’s warmer out by then.

“You look nice today,” Luka comments upon seeing Mihael in their kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal while Eclipse and Blood Moon perch on his shoulders, eyeing the grains eagerly.

Mihael chooses to simply wrap his arms around Luka, entirely abandoning his cereal for at least a few moments until his requisite warmth to start the day has been gathered from Luka’s body heat, warming Mihael even through his clothing. “Thanks, Lu,” he murmurs softly, pointed black cat-ears twitching under Luka’s soft, hot breaths.

Then, with Luka at his side, they return to their breakfast in a comfortable silence, after refilling Eclipse and Blood Moon’s tray of birdseed. Marcin is out right now, probably taking Maximillian, his familiar, on a walk. He always does that as a sort of apology to Mihael, whose alarm makes that terribly loud dog bark every morning despite Marcin’s best attempts to get him out of the apartment before Mihael’s alarm goes off. Maybe Mihael should invest in a different alarm, but at least like this he never oversleeps. Not that he could before then, either, what with his ravens clever enough to recognise when he needs to wake up.

By the time Marcin is back, Mihael has put on his hat and his coat and grabbed a basket for shopping, and he’s helped Luka map out a route for the day. Mihael, personally, wants some more fig plants. Marcin burned them all on accident.

It’s not an unusual occurrence for Mihael to lose plants, but still. He would like to replace them often enough that he still has his indoor garden. Marcin’s fire-witch ways are rather destructive, especially when he’s such an excitable, fiery person in general - his disposition matches his magic, though being a fire witch and choosing to go into cooking rather than the energy sector is unusual. Mihael doesn’t really mind, though. He’s used to it after living with his college roommates and best friends for years, now. Yes, Mihael is dating Luka and thus significantly more interested in spending time with him, but he has no real problems with Marcin, or Martin for that matter either, even if Martin has abandoned them to live with his mum and his boyfriend. Speaking of Janna, Mihael waves a kind hello to her as she soars through the apartment complex’s lobby and then off to do whatever the wind does on such gusty autumn days like these.

Mihael shivers and draws his coat and his tail tighter around his body as he braves the chill for the morning market.

A few of the trees mumble elderly hellos to him as he passes, which he responds to with nods and waves. He’s not much of a talkative person, even around plants, and he would much prefer gestures to spoken words. Luckily, the trees recognise him well enough by his magic alone as it clings to him and trails behind him like remnants of his body heat swept away by the wind. He’s quite grateful for the thick overskirt he’d chosen that day, a piece from the local seamstress faeries whose work is always impeccable. Its coarse, somewhat heavy fabric keeps out some of the wind. His underskirts do the rest well enough to keep his legs from getting cold, though that doesn’t help his poor nose stay any warmer. Perhaps he’ll have to break out the scarf next week, that lovely, messy, terribly-furled one Luka had made for him as one of those random gifts he periodically finds or creates for Mihael. It’s not a particularly beautiful thing, the scarf, but it’s nice and warm and fuzzy, and it’ll keep the wind from biting at his face so roughly. And Luka made it, so it makes Mihael’s core that much warmer.

Just before he gets to the market, Mihael wonders if it’s windy enough that some of the bird familiars will be soaring for the joy of it, gliding through the air effortlessly. Then, Petter touches down ahead of him and enters the market, and there Mihael has his answer. Petter would never fly such a short distance with Bae-in following along on the ground if it weren’t for high-speed, thrilling, life-giving winds rushing past them.

Mihael smiles to himself at how messy Petter’s hair has become from his flying, and he adjusts how his own ears are tucked in his mess of hair under his pointed hat in sympathy.

Today he has bread to buy, and some extra candy apples Luka wanted, plus some meats for Marcin to make dinner tonight and an assortment of vegetables. Usually Mihael shops alone - Luka is never keen on going through the market, it's not energetic enough for him, and Marcin is always busy. But today, it seems, he has found a friend.

“Oh, hey, Tim.”

“Hi.”

“Buying apples?”

“Mhm. Jus wants to make apple torte this weekend, since he didn’t get time to on Mabon.”

“Ah. Will that be for sale?”

“Not Jus’s,” Tim says. “But I’m making one, too, and that one is for the shop.”

“Perfect, I’ll have to drop by for some. Luka loves apple torte, but I always burn it,” he admits.

“I know you do, Mihael,” Tim teases with a grin, picking out a last few apples for his basket and paying the vendor. Mihael’s utter lack of culinary skill is no big surprise to any of his friends at this point. He’s much more of a food-grower than a chef - luckily he and Luka live with Marcin, whose chef skills come in handy for quick, easy, tasty dinners.

They chat about a few other things as they shop, random stuff like the price of straw and the best time to make a new hat and whether brown or black material is better for making pointed hats. Then, it’s off to home for Mihael. He’ll have to drop off his groceries before he can go to work, and even if he didn’t buy anything, he would want to shed that extra woollen petticoat and pick up some worksheets and charms for his schoolchildren to look at during their lesson today.

With a smile and a wave, he and Tim part ways, and Mihael settles into the bustle of his everyday life.

\---

All in all, his job is never hard; in fact, it’s quite rewarding to see each child’s eyes light up when they feel the magic in the charms or see the beauty of an otherworldly piece of ice that never thaws or a seed that glows from within. Of course, one or two of them tug at his tail, and have to be put in timeout for a few minutes, but once they’ve had to sit out from the fun, they quickly learn their lesson. It’s easy to keep the kids entertained, especially once Christy arrives during breaks in his own school. The kids love their merman teaching assistant, and Mihael is immensely grateful for the help. He really should compliment Christy on his work more often, and commend Martin on his son’s skill at working with children.

The walk home after work is rather less enjoyable than his work itself. It’s a bit longer of a trip than Mihael would like, especially given the weather, chillier than it was earlier in the day; the wind sweeps away the warmth through his skirts and makes him wish he’d chosen to wear that woollen one for a bit of extra insulation, even if he would end up sweating a bit during the day. He really just wants to see Luka again. It’s been a long day, and Mihael wants ear-rubs and something warm to drink.

He tightens his coat around his shoulders and picks up his pace, hurrying home.

Of course, the work doesn’t end there. He has some papers to correct, just simple things, letters and numbers and colours. It would seem a few of the kids didn’t understand which colour represented each kind of magic, so Mihael supposes he’ll just go over those worksheets again later and have them write the names out instead of using colouring pencils. It would be good for reinforcing their handwriting, anyway, so he’ll just get some extra sheets and print them off. Or he could ask Christy to help, and write out letters with the grey marker so the kids can trace over it with their pencils.

Luka doesn’t seem to be home yet. Maybe he’s still training something specific.

If he’s this late, he’s probably forgotten to get that fig plant for Mihael, but oh well. Mihael chuckles softly to himself, then settles down at their kitchen table, doing his best to ignore the mess of Marcin’s random notes and recipes scattered over half of it, each piece of paper stained with grease and salt and sauces. Sighing, he swipes a few of the notes away to grab a correcting pencil out of his bag and he goes through their maths tables, writing down correct answers where they’re needed and drawing little stars and smiley-faces where the answers are already correct. His hands are still busily following each row of messily-written numbers when there’s a noise from the hedge-witching room.

A cool gust of wind tickles at Mihael’s ankles.

“Heyyy, Miky,” Luka croons in his ear. He must just have gotten back from the Freljord, training with Ashe on that bow he still doesn’t fully know how to use, by the smell of snow hanging off of him and the looks of the little quiver charm on his shoulder. It’s missing an arrow, but smoothly, not chipped off, so Luka must have used the charm as his quiver and lost one of the arrows during practice instead of just breaking the charm.

Standing from his corrections work, red pencil still in hand, Mihael turns and brushes some snow off of Luka’s jacket. “Are you cold?” he asks playfully, touching his lips against the tip of Luka’s chilly, red nose.

“Mmm... you could warm me up,” Luka purrs, even though he definitely isn’t the one of the two of them who is a cat vastaya.

“Was thinking about getting coffee, actually,” Mihael retorts with a grin. He slips his fingers in between his and Luka’s lips, preventing Luka from leaning up to kiss him, and Luka rolls his eyes. “Come on,” Mihael says, “I read it in my tea leaves during lunch. Something’s going on, we need to visit Tim.”

“Again?” Luka asks, pursing his lips. “We visited not that long ago. You saw the same message again?”

Mihael nods. “It must be something serious,” he murmurs. “I think Bard is calling us. Or maybe Varus. I couldn’t tell.” The circular eyes of Bard and the wide eyes of Varus do look quite similar, after all.

Luka hums and taps their foreheads together. “If it’s Varus, it’s probably that new guy Tim has that they’re calling us to.”

“Could be him even if it’s Bard. Something’s up there, for sure.”

“Mhm. Moon said something about that, didn’t he?”

“Said something about ixtal when he saw him.”

“Interesting. Is he?”

“I didn’t notice anything, but there was definitely some sort of magic,” Mihael says, his black cat-ears and tail flicking as if to make his vastayan heritage even more apparent. “I don’t know enough about the ixtal traces to say for sure, but Bloodie is rarely wrong.”

Somewhere within the apartment but in the distance, a raven caws proudly, and Mihael fondly chuckles as Bloodmoon soars in and perches delicately on Mihael’s shoulder despite the raven’s size and weight. Mihael feeds it half a slice of apple, lest a full slice be uncomfortably large for the bird to digest, then tosses up the other half into the air.

Eclipse catches it neatly and lands on Mihael’s other shoulder.

“True... That’s interesting,” Luka murmurs. “Think Tim knows?”

“Not sure,” Mihael says frankly. “Maybe that’s what Bard wants. There was something about a revelation in the leaves.”

“Alright, so we buy some drinks and if we happen to also do a little reconnaissance on what, if anything, Nick is, then we tell Tim.”

Mihael gives him a slow, hesitant, but affirmative nod.

“Besides, I want coffee and you can have hot chocolate,” Luka says with a grin. “And then we’ll both be warm!”

“Oh, we’ll both be warm?” Mihael teases. “That’s great, plus you’ll have no excuse for putting your cold feet on me tonight, because I will have bought coffee for you and your ungrateful cold feet.”

Adorably, Luka laughs and kisses Mihael’s hand chivalrously. “Alright, alright.” He gives Mihael barely enough time to make sure his wallet is in his skirt’s pockets and grab his coat from the coat-rack, and with another swift rush of wind, the door swings open and shuts behind them, pushing the garden witch and his hedge wizard boyfriend off into the cool evening with an echoing trail of giggles behind them.

\---

The fall air is brisk. Mihael certainly isn’t complaining - he likes autumn best, when he can wear his long skirts without sweating to death and can wear pants again, too, if he likes, rather than shorts that show off his ugly, pale legs. Plus, a chilly, misty walk home will give him the perfect excuse to snuggle with Luka. The walk to the cafe is relatively short, too; just a few handfuls of minutes, and the time never feels like a burden when he has such lovely company. Luka holds his hand and swings it gently between them, humming absentmindedly between telling Mihael about all the cool things he saw that day.

Then, they get to the cafe - “Hot chocolate, please,” Mihael politely requests.

“And a cafe au lait,” Luka says.

The man behind the counter - Jus, if Mihael remembers correctly - whose lovely sweater looks wonderful with his well-chosen grey pants and elegant glasses nods and accepts their orders and payment, then tells them their drinks will be ready shortly. Looks like Tim is still outside, along with his... boyfriend? Romantic interest? Nick, if Mihael again manages to recall.

As Mihael and Luka sit down for the time being, Mihael notes with a jolt of surprise that Luka had somehow ordered pastries for them without Mihael noticing. Luka sets down a slice of pumpkin pie in front of Mihael, topped with a dollop of whipped cream, and scoops up the first bite while Mihael still watches, stunned. Then, Luka turns to his own slice of cake and begins to eat. “Thanks, babe,” Mihael murmurs just loudly enough for Luka to hear.

“Y’re welc’m,” Luka answers through a mouthful of chocolate buttercream frosting.

Mihael chuckles and his hands stroke lovingly over Luka’s inner arm almost involuntarily.

Between chatter and meaningful silences and meaningless touches of hands against hands, Luka and Mihael work on polishing off their desserts. It’s a slow task, one meant to be savoured like hot chocolate on a frosty morning - speaking of which, Mihael will have to bring their window-plants in before the first frost, which is coming very soon. But eating with Luka is a slow task that Mihael enjoys nonetheless, even if his wandering mind often struggles to nest during these peaceful times. They have nothing else to do today, their schedules freed up for the afternoon and the night. Hopefully neither Marcin nor his noisy Maximillian will be interrupting them.

As they eat, more customers flow in and out of the coffeeshop, moving calmly and deliberately but steadily from order to counter to drink to repeat with each new customer, and Mihael finds his eyes following the natural flow of business even though he doesn’t focus on it. Compared to sitting at home with Luka and Marcin as company, this isn’t all that bad. It’s nice to just... be. The noise is comforting, as are the lack of expectations. Here, he can simply sit and lean against Luka’s shoulder and sip his hot chocolate in peace.

Some familiar faces flow through the shop as well - Mads and Lucas, both acquaintances from Mihael’s duelling team in uni, and a humanly small girl with the teal hair of a naiad and black cat ears of a fellow vastaya whom Mihael vaguely recognises from one of the art electives he took. And then...

A svelte naga, bundled up in multiple dark layers over his human half and a shimmery sleeve over his snake half, slithers in through the door, and Mihael’s face lights up. It’s Kasper, a dear roommate from university! Luka looks the same way as Mihael’s bright expression, and smiles as well when he sees who it is. They’ve met before, of course. Mihael is certainly no social butterfly, but he knows well enough to introduce his lovely boyfriend to his friends. He makes sure to wave to Kasper as Kasper waits in line to order, his tail constantly tucking itself into a less space-consuming position as he stops and waits and then uncoiling to slither forward and reassume its compactness again.

Kasper waves back, and Mihael’s heart smiles with a warmth that is not from the hot chocolate alone.

As poised and graceful as ever, once he’s received his typical hot tea order, Kasper comes up to Mihael and Luka and neatly coils his lengthy tail into an orderly pile beneath him as he sits. Surprisingly, a bright-eyed friend follows him and sits next to them at their little table. “Hey, Miha,” says Kasper with a smile, one of those rare smiles he gives so seldomly but which light up any room he’s in. “Hello, Luka,” he says cordially.

Luka gives him a nod of respect and continues to munch away at his pastry.

With Kasper, Mihael could chat the day away - or more like rest in comfortable silence until the other noise in King’s Crown comes along and ruins it. But Kasper is still there, and honestly, it feels like Mihael hasn’t seen him in forever, and so they chatter on and on and on about what seems like nothing but means everything to them. Kasper has new friendly roommates, even! “This is Yasin,” says the elegant naga with his neat, orderly rows of grey scales along his black-scaled tail.

The gecko vastaya at his side practically explodes in a shower of rainbowy magic and colourful splotches over his skin. “Hi!” he chirps, and Mihael has to suppress a giggle at how energetic he is.

“Hi, I’m Mihael,” says Mihael at his more typical, smooth tone, and he introduces Luka at his side in much the same way.

As he gets to know Kasper and his unlikely roommate - one of five, Mihael learns with no small measure of surprise at how Kasper got himself caught up with two gentle giants, two boisterous boys and one sunlight-bright ball of energy - Mihael remembers his own uni experience fondly. Of course, it’s only one year past, now, and he and Luka have since moved in together with Marcin, since Martin has his dear Rasmus as an excuse, and Mihael would never want to have Martin and Rasmus as roommates (who knows what they would get up to together at night?) but the whole experience of uni life still sparks a resonating chord with him and his past.

They’re midway through a nice talk about an eccentric old professor when Tim bursts in with a frantic expression. “Hi, excuse me, Luka, do you have Rainbow with you? There’s a snake in the garden,” he says apologetically.

Luka and Mihael blink at each other. “I didn’t bring Rainbow,” Luka murmurs. “I can try talking to it, is it a garden snake?”

“I don’t recognise the scale pattern.”

Well, that’s not good.

“I can handle it,” says a third voice - Kasper - and for a moment, Mihael wonders if Kasper has take snake classes for the language.

Oh.

Wait, he’s a snake vastaya! Mihael can’t help but giggle softly at their own stupidity, introducing Kasper to Tim in a rush while Kasper starts to uncoil the lengths of his tail so he can move along to the garden, and Tim breathes a sigh of relief. “Nick is still out there,” he explains, “I was closest to the door,” and Kasper reassures him that the snake won’t bite and Kasper will be able to talk the poor thing out of its scared misery.

At first glance, it looks like Nick and Tim have been ambushed while enjoying hot cups of tea and tart apple slices with honey. Nick is still sitting there on the porch swing, his knees pressed against his chest to keep his feet up off the ground, and Kasper’s gaze locks onto something Nick is also staring at in the garden. Softly, Kasper hisses. His forked tongue flickers through the air as he slithers through the door into the garden, his tail seeming to trail endlessly behind him as it uncoils.

“Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you,” Kasper says in his typical, calm voice to Nick, who nods but does not take his eyes off the spot in the garden where he presumably last saw the snake.

With that mild reassurance, Kasper continues to quietly hiss, almost so quietly that it seems as though he’s only hissing to himself as he slithers into the garden and slowly, with well-choreographed motions, leans down. When he rises again, a beautiful, but dangerous-looking snake has curled up stiffly in his arms, its head resting in his hand. Poor little thing, it must be freezing. Mihael still remembers having to cuddle Kasper to keep his body temperature high, especially in the depths of winter whenever the heating went out or his heatlamp broke. It must be the same for Yasin, too, now that Mihael thinks about it, but Yasin is so carefree that it’s hard to remember he’s roughly the same age as Kasper and with the same cool-blooded difficulties. Thank the gods for innovations in warmth, like the clothing Yasin and Kasper wear, specially designed for cold-blooded people.

With that threat taken care of, Mihael breathes a sigh of relief, and the once-frightening snake curls up in Kasper’s arms like a playful kitten, its tenseness relaxing as it warms in the cafe. Mihael and Luka stay outside just a little bit longer - Mihael chats to Tim again. But Luka keeps looking at Nick’s neck.

Weird.

And a bit annoying, to Mihael, even.

“Hey, do you have a charm in your sachet?” Luka asks during a momentary pause in their chatter.

Both Tim and Nick look up.

“Nick, I mean,” Luka clarifies, and Nick nods and awkwardly fishes out a circular golden charm, engraved with a pattern Mihael recognises at once.

Bard.

“Oh, that’s cool,” says Luka mindlessly. “Bard, right?”

“Yeah,” says Nick in return. “A friend gave it to me a while ago. I just found it again recently.”

“Oh, it looks nice,” Tim murmurs, touching Nick’s hand without hesitation to guide it for easier viewing. Mihael chuckles fondly, silently - they’re so cute. Ah, young love! He and Luka are young, but their love has grown old as they do, and so seeing Tim with a new boyfriend, so cute and hapless and happy, is really so wholesome.

“That’s a hedge witch symbol,” Luka says.

“Hedge?” Nick asks.

How does he not know what that is?

“Realm-jumping, basically,” Luka explains. “Spirit Realm with the gods, Mortal Realm here.”

“I see.”

Mihael and Tim make a small bit more small talk and Mihael and Luka head inside, trading curious glances at each other as they go.

“So. What do you think?” Mihael asks as they sip the last of their drinks, enjoying the cafe’s warmth after the chill of the outside world.

“Well... He’s not trained,” says Luka, analysing Nick’s aural magic as best as he can. He’s not like Mihael, not trained for it, not used to detecting even its slight traces in the same way Mihael must manage to develop at least a hunch about what type of magic each of his schoolchildren attract, but Luka does seem to be at least somewhat accurate this time. Mihael really has trained him well, hasn’t he. “Not a duellist, for sure,” Luka adds. “And his magic is, like... Raw? It doesn’t stay by him at all, it goes everywhere.”

“It trails behind him,” Mihael suggests.

“Exactly.”

That’s a hallmark trait of someone who hasn’t properly honed all their magic. If they can’t control it, they can’t keep it in themselves, bound close to their skin so they can use every possible ounce of the power in that magic they have.

“And the trailing magic was hedging,” Luka notes. “It called to me, you know? Made my hands tingle.”

Mihael giggles. “Yes, that’s exactly right,” he praises; Luka has picked up on all the same clues he did, and Mihael is so proud of Luka, the same way Luka gets so proud of him when he’s mastered another duelling spell or discovered a new plant Luka never would have noticed in the Spirit Realm.

“There was something else, though.”

What? “I didn’t feel any other traces,” Mihael says doubtfully.

“That’s because it’s not trace magic. This one is trained - really well-trained. I only noticed it when he shook my hand.”

“Well... what is it?”

“Ixtal. It felt like Nidalee’s magic. It has to be ixtal.”

Mihael hums thoughtfully.

Ultimately, what Luka is saying makes sense. Bloodmoon would agree, if he was here; he said ixtal and Mihael didn’t listen. It makes sense.

And yet, it doesn’t. Tim had said Nick was nonmagical - a rarity in the world, to be sure, but not unheard of.

There’s a lie somewhere in here, and Mihael isn’t sure where it is.

“I think we need to tell him,” Luka says quietly, breaking the confused concentration Mihael had. “At least we need to tell him that we suspect something. And especially about the hedge magic part; if he has that much trailing magic he’s probably still powerful and he could learn to do a lot with hedge magic.”

Mihael sighs softly. “Alright,” he says at last. “I’ll tell him. You stay here.” He grins ever so slightly. “You trying to be delicate works about as well as a fire witch in a dry greenhouse.”

“So Marcin in our apartment?” Luka teases in return as they descend into giggles.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mihael chuckles. It’s times like these where he realises how much he loves Luka.

But all that sappiness will have to wait.

Mihael pokes his head out of the back door after politely knocking to make sure Nick and Tim won’t be making out when he interrupts them. “Tim, could I talk to you for a moment? It’s about... you know,” he says cryptically.

“Oh. Of course.” Darn, no evidence of makeouts. Honestly, Mihael is a little disappointed, but then again, he, too, would rather be in the complete privacy of his room for something like that. “Nick, could you take these inside?” Tim asks politely, handing him a basket of greens which Nick obediently takes. He leaves with a smile.

Mihael does not take his spot on the porch swing.

“Alright, Miha, spill. I have no idea what you want to talk about,” Tim confesses as soon as Nick has shut the door behind him, and Mihael giggles at their silly, age-old code words for confusing everyone around them and each other.

“Well, first I need to know if Nick can hear us from the kitchen,” Mihael says, slowly sobering up. It’s a delicate topic, after all; how do you tell someone that all their education thus far has failed to recognise what kind of magic they really need to learn, and how do you tell one of your dear friends that his boyfriend/friend/whatever-Nick-is-to-Tim might be lying? Mihael really has no idea. But at least making sure the person in question can’t hear is a good start.

Tim glances back at the kitchen windows, cracked open to let out steam from making that day’s potions, and leads Mihael deeper into the garden. Once they’re between the trees at the back fence and the hedges just before the trees, he stops. “He won’t be able to hear from this far away,” he says quietly. “Is- is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong,” says Mihael. “Just... wondering about Nick. You said he thinks he’s nonmagical, right?”

Tim nods slowly, as though he isn’t sure why this conversation is being held with him rather than Nick.

“Luka and I can both feel his magic. It’s hedge, and it’s strong - we don’t know how the hell any of his teachers missed it this entire time.” That particular point is what sells Mihael on the idea that Nick is ixtal as well. Ignoring hedge magic makes sense if he’s trained his whole life as an ixtal and didn’t go to uni.

“Oh. Would you like to meet with him?” Tim asks, unsure of what his friends mean. “He would know more about what to do than me.”

“Not yet,” Mihael says, “but someday. See if you notice it as well, too. Obviously Luka and I could be wrong.”

“No, I trust you,” Tim says, and Mihael internally frowns. “Is that all?”

“Well... Luka thinks he’s ixtal. And now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure Bloodmoon said he was ixtal, too. And being ixtal is pretty much the only explanation for why his hedge magic hasn’t been taught or trained - primary and secondary school usually ignore it if the student’s peoples have magic, like naiads and dryads and selkies and, well, ixtal.”

“Oh, okay.” Tim pokes at something on the tree, plucking off a dead leaf and inspecting a few apples yet to be harvested.

“That doesn’t concern you at all?” Mihael wonders. “Your boyfriend not telling you about something like that?” He knows Tim is trusting. It’s sweet, usually, but this... this seems more serious.

“N-not really,” Tim says quietly, letting another leaf fall. “We’re not dating, anyway. It would be rude to ask, no? It’s not like he’s hurting me.”

“Tim, I know you want to trust him, but really, this is a bit-”

“Miha. I trust him, okay?” His grey eyes meet Mihael’s brown, and Mihael’s lips press together with worry.

“Is it smart to trust him?”

“Jus and Oskar... they trust him. That’s enough for me, you know? I trust them to trust him so I can trust him.” Tim’s face is plain and clear, and Mihael can’t help but wonder just how much trust he puts in his best friends. “And... and if he doesn’t want to tell me that, then that is fine. Me pressuring him isn’t going to help anything,” he trails off into a mumble.

“It’s not good,” Mihael says firmly.

“I trust him.”

And with the glint in Tim’s eye, the hard-edged metal glint of a years-old trowel or a stone in soft soil that stubbornly refuses to move, Mihael knows there is no point in continuing to push. He nods slowly. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Just don’t be surprised if something bad happens, okay?”

“It’ll be fine, Mihael.”

“Alright. Hey, if he wants to learn more about hedge magic, let me know, okay? Luka and I can teach him enough to get started. He has an affinity for it, after all.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Miha.” He shrieks and giggles when Mihael lifts him up in the hug, sounding so adorable, and then Mihael sets him down.

“No problem, Nemi.”

“Heyyy,” Tim whines at his old nickname, but he does it with a smile on his face, and Mihael giggles and nudges Tim’s side as they walk back to the shop itself and Nick greets them at the back door.

Mihael does his best to smile at Nick as well, but he feels it show halfheartedly, and when he looks at Luka, he sees much the same expression.

\---

Luka and Yasin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moving to every-other-week kccf uploads so i wont fall behind and i'll have more time to post other things as well! uwu
> 
> if you'd like to talk to me directly as well and with other lolrpf friends, please come join us on the discord created by Piper_Ronnie, author of Can't Seem to Let You Go - i'd love to chat with you all <3 - [link here for the discord invite! the invite expires at 18:30 UTC on October 19, 2020.](https://discord.gg/dGcYDa)


	20. Hot Chocolate and Lavender Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Tim thinks too much. But is it bad in this case? He's worried, worried for Nick and worried for himself and worried for what this might mean for both of them.  
> In the end, he might not even find any answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for putting up with this super-late chapter. i hope you enjoy this one <3
> 
> updating schedule will be moved to every second week on Wednesday!

“It’s not good.”

“I trust him,” Tim says anyway.

“Alright,” Mihael murmurs softly, making Tim worry that Mihael is too worried about him. “Just don’t be surprised if something bad happens, okay?”

And, well, if that isn't just foreshadowing. Tim replies politely and sees Mihael off for the day, waving goodbye from the garden’s depths as Mihael trods back to the great world beyond. All the while, thoughts brew inside his head.

He mulls it over, that night, while lying in Nick’s bed after playing a quick game of chess. They sleep together most nights, actually - it’s warmer that way, and Tim finds that he just sleeps better when Nick is at his side and Soves is peacefully purring next to them. Her animosity against Nick seems to have mellowed out somewhat, though the occasional face-swat after a particularly displeasing back-scratch is not uncommon on their peaceful little nights, lit only by Nick’s glowlamp.

Admittedly, it feels weird to be fretting over Nick when he’s right there. Nothing is stopping Tim from simply asking again, other than the fact that he’ll probably just get a firmer denial than before, but...

In the end, what else can he do but trust Nick?

He can’t kick Nick out, Nick is technically his coworker. He can’t just outright ask Nick if he’s ixtal, he’s already asked Nick about his heritage and prying any further would be rude. He can’t ask Jus or Oskar to ask, they’ll probably investigate or already know and then never tell Tim because of confidentiality reasons and a need to be impartial and kind to Nick. He can’t be so presumptuous and investigate on his own and poke through Nick’s belongings for “evidence,” that would break the trust they have, the trust that Tim has so carefully built up alongside their relationship for months, now.

Softly, Tim sighs and looks skyward, wondering if Varus and Nidalee have conspired to test the strength of his love for Nick.

And so, he decides to trust. Much to the detriment of everyone invested in the scheme, perhaps, but it’s another way of showing devotion and kindness to Nick, alongside putting another pack of cinnamon sticks on the list of ingredients to purchase at the market tomorrow so they can make cinnamon-apple tea again.

It’s not like Tim has other options, though.

And so he decides to trust that Nick is either telling the truth or has a reason to hide his ixtal past under the disguise of poor schooling and an inability to get to uni.

Tim just hopes he’s safe.

When morning comes and they wake up suspiciously close together, in a position compromising enough that Oskar would certainly gossip if he found them in such a way, they hurry to the kitchen again. Busy with prep, Nick doesn’t find the time to eat any breakfast. Tim supposes he’ll just buy something small for Nick at the market - maybe an apple fritter.

A little seed of worry starts to take root in Tim’s heart. Tim really hopes Nick is safe and healthy and happy here, with him, and not chained down because of a job and housing.

With a brief glance through the back shop window, where all the succulents sit shivering in the cold autumn breeze, Tim can confirm Nick’s physical safety, at least for now, but...

Those same thoughts from yesterday come back.

A part of him almost wants to doubt it, to doubt that Nick is really ixtal. Mihael is a person, after all, and people make mistakes, whether they be vastayan or ixtal or merfolk or selkie or faerie or giant. People make mistakes, this could easily be just another mistake, right?

But... Tim knows they’re right about Nick being a hedge witch. The plants can feel his magic, particularly the hedges, and Tim knows the hedges call to Nick, too, and Nick answers - however unconsciously. And so Mihael and Luka got that right, at least.

So what does that mean about ixtal?

It’s not earth-shattering, per se. It’s not like Tim needs to know that. It’s not like being ixtal changes everything. It’s not like Nick absolutely has to tell Tim everything, of course. And- and Tim has had his suspicions, no? He saw Nick’s cat-like habits while Nick slept on the floor of his room with him, and Nick hums sometimes in a way that seems just like purring, when he’s asleep and Tim isn’t, and his previous antagonism with Soves makes sense if they can understand each other, which they would be able to if Mihael is right, and Nick’s weird sleeping hours are exactly the hours a cat would have.

Nidalee-type magic...

If that’s true, then Mihael thinks Nick is a cat ixtal. Why wouldn’t Nick just tell him at that point? He knows Tim loves him, and he knows Tim loves cats, so why wouldn’t he just-

But that’s not Tim’s choice to make, as much as he hates it.

With a sigh, Tim keeps tending to the snow peas, checking over their little flowers and growing pea pods. Nick is in the shop right now, anyway, helping with the morning rush, so Tim can’t do anything about it, and he’s not sure he would even want to ask directly. What if it scares Nick away? And what’s stopping him from just lying again and saying he’s nonmagical?

Why did he lie in the first place?

Tim shakes his head in an attempt to knock the negative thoughts out of his mind.

Maybe... Maybe Nick will clear it up. Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding.

He takes a deep, shaky breath of cool October air and tries not to think about it too much.

Luckily, there are more important things to focus on in the early morning and early afternoon. Tim tends to his garden until the sun peaks highest in the sky above him, taking care of his plants, young and old alike. Most are sleepy - the perennials have begun to save their energy strictly for surviving the season, and the annuals are slowly dying in the cold weather. The next frost will kill them. Fondly, Tim caresses their leaves and gives them bits of his magic, warm and soothing, to keep them comfortable until they die.

Then, once he knows Nick will be on break, he takes his own pause to return inside for lunch and refuge from the cold.

“Hey!” Nick chirps as he walks into the kitchen, where Tim has already made himself comfortable with a kettle of water heating up, both so the steam can warm his hands and so he can have some tea before going back outside to work.

“Hey,” Tim answers with a smile.”How was the morning shift?”

“Good, I think. I made hot chocolate,” Nick murmurs, answering Tim’s smile with one of his own and handing Tim a mug of warm, creamy hot chocolate. “Is it good?”

Tim takes a sip, savouring the warmth of the cup in his hands and the steam on his face. “Yes, it’s very good,” he hums happily. “You’re getting really good at the drinks, now, huh?”

“Yeah.” Nick giggles adorably, and Tim’s heart melts for him.

“Did you eat anything yet?” he asks as he drinks more of the delicious, sweet warmth in his mug. “You skipped breakfast, no?”

“Oh, not yet.” Sheepishly, Nick chuckles and fidgets with the sides of his apron. “I, uh, hadn’t really gotten the chance. Did you eat lunch already?”

“No, I was just about to start cooking. Was gonna make salad since we have boiled eggs and some leftover chicken and peas to mix in, so it’s mostly prep stuff, not actual cooking.”

“Sounds good to me,” Nick says with a smile. Already, he’s reaching for the boiled eggs in the fridge and a bowl of water to peel them in, and Tim smiles at the rhythm they’ve found as his own hands dart between Nick’s to grab spinach and lettuce and leftovers. Lunch prep goes by fast, especially with the two of them working together. Just like Jus and Oskar, their rhythm is strong.

But it’s not perfect. There are errors today that Tim knows are from him second-guessing Nick, errors where one of them leaves the water running, expecting the other to swoop in with lettuce to wash or a basin to fill, only for the tap to flow impatiently while Tim hurries to catch up, or where Tim hastily retrieves the chicken and peas from the microwave and rushes to cut them into bite-size pieces while they’re still too hot to touch, burning himself with how overeager he is to get out of Nick’s way when their rhythm normally is slower, smoother, awkward but well-practised. At least he gets a few gentle touches from Nick out of it. Nick cradles his singed fingertips with care, darting to Tim’s side as soon as he hisses, and he rubs the pads of Tim’s fingers with a cute lip-bite as he checks to make sure Tim is okay.

“Silly,” he says softly. “Be careful, okay?” His giggles sound unusually high, though, almost like a kitten’s sneeze-

Tim is just being delusional, at this point, no? “I will,” Tim promises.

Nick’s hands tremble midair and soon let go of Tim’s so they can return to their work, but their rhythm has been fully jolted, at this point. Still, with a little effort, Tim matches Nick’s new pattern, a sort of jittery mess that is harder to get used to but still works.

Though, why is Nick jittery? Does he know what Miha told Tim?

Too many questions.

Tim chops the chicken, slices eggs and tosses spinach and lettuce in salad dressing with the peas until a nice-looking salad has brought itself together, and he scoops it out into two bowls, one cleverly packed with more than the other in such a way that they still look to contain about the same amount. If Nick hasn’t eaten at all yet today, then he really needs the extra bit of food. Tim doesn’t mind purposefully eating more slowly, anyway. It just gives him more time to spend with Nick.

They chat about random things, more talk about customers and when Tim’s fall harvests will be done, and when the parsnips will be best to crunch into. The kitchen is warm and cosy compared to the chilly outside world. Tim can’t help but be grateful - not only for the fresh bread he’s just started baking and the way the oven’s heat radiates, but also for Nick with him at the table, their ankles resting against each other. He shivers as the last bits of chill seep out from his now-warm body, and he takes another bite of salad.

There still is one thing Tim really needs to address now, though, before he forgets.

“You said your parents were hedge witches, right?”

Nick chomps through a spinach leaf, eyes open and trusting as he looks at Tim even though his legs jitter under the table, against Tim’s own. “Yeah, they are,” he says, politely covering his mouth.

“Miha’s boyfriend is a hedge witch too - remember him?”

Blinking with that adorable, perplexed quirk in his brow, Nick swallows his mouthful. “Yesh, I do.”

“Well,” Tim says lightly, “he thinks you’re a hedge witch, sort of, and so does Mihael.”

Nick doesn’t move.

“Miha was wondering if you would want to talk to him or Luka about it. Obviously you don’t have to, of cou-”

“Oh- that sounds... nice. I don’t hardly know anything, though, did you tell them that?” Nick asks softly, his knee bouncing constantly, and hard enough that he’s constantly taking Tim’s knee with it. Tim is more worried than annoyed, to be honest - oh, poor Nick, he’s not normally so fidgety. Fidgety, yes, but to this degree? Never.

Perhaps something really is wrong.

“I think they assumed that. It’ll be alright,” Tim says, weakly trying to soothe Nick’s jumpiness.

“Okay,” answers Nick in an uncharacteristically tiny voice.

He flinches at his own words and stuffs his face with a big bite of salad. Worried, Tim lightly sets his hand down next to Nick’s, close enough to brush, and runs his thumb over Nick’s knuckles. “Everything alright?”

“Fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it.

When their lunch is over, Tim puts away the ingredients and sets a kettle of water to boil for his own tea. It’s been a cold day, after all. They’ve had to finally shut the kitchen windows even during the day, too, now, and all the succulents outside have been brought inside where they’ll stay warm. Most potted plants now take up residence either in Tim’s room or the sunnier parts of the pantry, while others will die this winter as is their fate, and their pots will grow with crops of snowdrifts instead. As long as it doesn’t frost, they’ll have a few more weeks; if it frosts tonight, most of them will die. The fall crops should be fine, though. Tim has picked parsnips and kale right out of the snow, even.

As he waits for his water to boil, Tim can’t help but sneak glances at Nick, who has kindly offered to wash what few dishes they have. Maybe Tim is just thinking too much about Nick seeming nervous. Making Malphite out of a pebble, or so the saying goes. A big deal about nothing.

And yet Tim can’t seem to truly, fully dismiss those thoughts from his mind. Soon enough, Nick is done with the dishes and reaches for a towel to dry off his hands, only to have Tim dart into his arms. He just really, really would like a hug right now - he had hesitated, and hemmed and hawed mentally, and in the end decided to just go for it, Nick already knows Tim likes him, they sleep in the same bed most nights, and so Tim steals a hug, arms wrapped tight around Nick and face buried in Nick’s hard, bony chest. Is Nick slimmer than normal? Has he always been so unusually thin?

“Wha- hey, be careful, my hands are still wet,” Nick protests softly. He reaches behind Tim’s back to grab the towel that hangs from the oven handle and dries his hands quickly.

Tim doesn’t let go at all.

And then, big, slender, sharp-boned hands splay across his back, warming Tim up from the outside in and from the inside out as he rubs his hands over Nick’s back, fingers cresting the ridge of Nick’s spine to set Nick’s arms firmly around Tim. He sighs happily and holds Nick tight. “Everything okay?” Nick asks softly. “What’s all this about, huh?” His words are gentle and sweet, like comforting a loved one, and they make Tim’s heart even warmer.

“Worried about you,” Tim murmurs against Nick’s shoulder.

“I’m alright, Tim,” Nick insists, and yet he still doesn’t make a single move to let Tim go. In fact, they only let their arms fall once Oskar pops into the room to ask them for help in the shop as he smirks at them and winks at Tim once Nick isn’t looking.

Tim rolls his eyes at Oskar and starts steeping his tea.

\---

Night falls. Funny how days work.

Tim returns inside after only a few hours out in the cold beyond lunch; it gets too chilly with the wind to stay out for much more than watering some plants, picking snow peas and harvesting more apples. Even then, his poor fingers get so cold! He should get out the gloves at this point, lest his hands get red and dry and crackly with the cold.

By then, though, it’s about time for him to make dinner while Nick and Oskar and Jus keep working. Tim warms his hands over the heat of the pan as he makes some basic fried rice with fresh snow peas, carrots, scrambled eggs and more leftover chicken, and as he waits for the vegetables to cook he smears a bit of lotion on his hands to keep them from getting all dried out due to the cool weather and the harsh winds. Soon enough, dinner is ready, and then they eat, and then they all split up according to what they tend to do in their downtime and who they spend it with.

Ordinarily, Tim would go straight to Nick’s room with some knitting to do or embroidery to fix up or more straw to braid.

Tonight, though, he wants to ask Jus and Oskar something, and so he lets them run along to their room - he does hope they won’t be doing anything interruptible - and Nick goes to his room to practise some magic on his own and maybe keep working on that mangled scarf Tim knows he’ll still wear if Nick gifts it to him. In the meantime, Tim finishes washing the dishes and sits in the cushy shop chairs with Soves on the armrest. She gracefully leans her head down for Tim to rub her ears at a more agreeable angle, and Tim gives her attention for as long as she accepts it, though she prances off after a short while. Then, with not much else to do, Tim moves some more of the succulents around. He would hate for them to get too cold next to the big window.

Then, after an acceptable amount of time has passed and Soves’s ears are no longer suspiciously attuned to silent noises coming from Oskar and Jus’s room, Tim heads upstairs.

Shy, he raps his knuckles lightly on the door.

No answer.

He raps a little harder and someone in the room grumbles a “Who is it?”

“It’s Tim,” Tim answers, smart enough to not open doors when Jus and Oskar are partaking in unknown activities together.

“Oh, what’s up?” says a much less grumpy voice, Jus by the tone of it.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Give us a moment,” Jus answers, and Tim politely waits outside the door.

“Alright, you can come in.”

Cautiously, Tim opens the door and peeks inside. Thankfully at least both of his housemates are clothed - Jus in what looks like one of Oskar’s shirts and Oskar in his dog form, so a layer of soft black fur with its characteristic brown markings keeps him decent. Tim doesn’t ask what they were up to. Silently, he picks up some tossed clothing from the desk chair, the desk rarely used by Jus at all, and sits on the chair, putting the clothing where it rightfully belongs in the hamper and pulling the chair around so he can face Jus.

Patiently, Jus keeps petting Oskar’s ears. “So what’s up?”

“Miha told me something about Nick,” Tim mumbles. “I... did- did you know he’s ixtal?”

“Did you ask him?” Jus answers the question with one of his own. “Miha could have made a mistake.”

“No,” Tim admits, “but... I don’t know. He might have lied, no?”

“Maybe.”

Tim sighs and stares at his hands in his lap.

“Tim, if Nick hasn’t told you on his own then Oskar and I can’t responsibly tell you anything either. You know I want to but-...”

Like he’s moving through honey, Tim slowly nods.

Now, it is Jus’s turn to sigh deeply. “I’m sorry, Tim. I don’t want to make him feel like he’s all alone here, everyone needs someone they can tell secrets to and be around without pressure to impress.”

“I’m- I’m not pressuring him, am I?” Tim frets, suddenly even more worried.

Quickly, Jus corrects his statement, saying “Not at all, Tim- It’s just easy to tell that he likes you and wants to impress you. That’s all.”

Tim nods again.

“Though...” Jus trails off and rubs at Oskark’s ears absent-mindedly, and Oskar lazily opens one eye to stare at Tim with a dog-like smile.

“Yes?”

“You’ve noticed he’s acting odd, lately, right?”

Tim blanches, but before he can answer-

Another knock?

“Come in, Nick,” Jus calls amiably, and the door slowly swings open to reveal a sheepish Nick, words already falling off his lips.

“Excuse me, sorry, do you know where- oh, there you are. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Nick blathers on, “um, I was just wondering where you were. Take your time, though; I’ll just be in my room.” He sneezes adorably, probably from the dog-hair in the air that he’s allergic to, and gives Tim a tiny wave goodbye before hastily shutting the door.

Tim wonders if Nick has always been so nervous and skittish, or if he’s just noticing it more because of what he now knows about Nick.

Oskar flops his snout on Jus’s chest, staring at him with a kind of pointed look that makes Tim wonder if they’re suspecting similar things. “Anyway,” Jus continues, “just... try to be there for him. I’m worried, too. He seems... more nervous.”

“Yeah,” Tim murmurs. “Jus... do you think it’s because of me?”

“How so?”

“Like, that I’m not giving him enough alone time and that’s why he’s nervous so much,” Tim confesses guiltily. “I want to be around him... maybe I shouldn’t push so much, though.”

“If he didn’t like spending time with you, he wouldn’t come looking for you,” Jus says plainly.

At his side, Oskar makes a soft rrowf in agreement.

“Just give him some support,” Jus murmurs. “Oskar and I are trying to, as well.”

Firmly, Tim nods, his mission accepted with his whole heart.

“Now leave,” Oskar grumbles teasingly, shifting into his halfsies form with a human body and his dog ears and dog tail out. “Go cuddle your boyfriend so I can cuddle mine.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Tim retorts with a smile as he leaves their bedroom.

“Yet,” both Jus and Oskar chorus in singsong, and Tim just laughs as he closes their door behind him.

\---

“Hey, heard you were looking for me?”

“Oh- was wondering where you were. Sorry for interrupting,” Nick says sheepishly. In his hands rest two orbs of light - one in each hand, a result of conjuring two lumia spells, and both slowly grow brighter and dimmer as he manipulates their magic. Considering Tim doesn’t know any hedge magic at all, he thinks he’s doing pretty well at teaching Nick the basics, at least.

“It’s fine. You’re doing well with that spell, now,” Tim compliments, and Nick’s pretty face blushes an adorable pink.

“All thanks to you,” he mumbles.

“And the textbook,” Tim points out, looking at his old magic books in Nick’s lap.

Nick just giggles. “Still- thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Smiling, Tim sits down next to Nick on his bed, the duvet neatly laid over the futon but somewhat rumpled under where they sit, and he takes out his knitting for a little work in the meantime while Nick keeps trying different variations with simple spells. Maybe Tim can even show him incantations and enchantments tomorrow, if they have time. For now, though, it’s getting late, and so both boys scurry off to get ready for bed with showers and brushing their teeth and putting on pyjamas to stay warm and cuddly all night.

And then, when Nick has tucked himself into bed and only the light of his glowlamp illuminates the attic, and when Tim has made sure his hair is dry enough to not soak through a pillow, Tim grabs his own pillow and carries it with him upstairs. It’s one of the few pieces he has that hasn’t already migrated to a new home in Nick’s room - purely out of appearances, so far. He pokes his head up through the trapdoor and asks to come in, and Nick lets him in, and as quickly as they had separated to make for a short separation, they reunite in Nick’s bed.

Their hands never touch each other’s bodies, of course, and Tim usually wraps his arms around his own stomach while Nick holds his hands in front of and close to his chest. Sometimes, after the depths of sleep surrender Tim and Nick back to the waking world, they find themselves entangled, with Tim’s arms around Nick’s waist instead of his own, and Nick’s hands clinging to Tim’s shoulders. But still, even though this faux-cuddling can never compare to having Nick’s skin against his own, Tim feels cosy like this. One thick blanket over the two of them. One small bed under them, forcing them close. One cat purring on the steps, as Soves has gotten used to her adopter sleeping in the attic by now - if those hums Nick makes really are his human version of purrs, Tim supposes there’s actually two cats purring, one on the steps and one in bed.

Though, one of those cats seems rather restless tonight.

Nick’s legs shift and bounce in bed, jittering strongly enough to jar Tim, too. Ordinarily a little vibration never killed anyone, but Tim already is worried about Nick - is this something else he should look into or think about? As Nick rolls onto his back for a minute and then rolls back up onto his side for the fifth time in their short night so far, Tim’s fingers fidget with each other.

Nick repeats the move, rolling onto his back and then back onto his side again but never turning his back towards Tim. A gentle touch runs along his cheek courtesy of Tim.

He almost has the urge to say something, to ask if Nick is okay, but at the same time... this silence is nice. And so Tim does not speak, but instead simply gives Nick a small smile in the soft glow of the lamp and strokes a thumb over Nick’s cheek, caressing the warm skin stretched tight over his bones there. Ah, Nick is still so thin - Tim really should try to feed him more calories, or carbs, or something. Poor Nick.

At the light touches, Nick rolls over entirely so he can face Tim, and his wide brown eyes look so melancholy. With one hand, Tim keeps cupping Nick’s face, and with the other, he reaches to hold Nick’s bony hands in his. His eyes find Nick’s own in a long, terribly sweet, beautifully painful gaze. In the end, he again says nothing of the circumstances they find themselves in, with Nick unable to sleep.

Instead, he moves the hand on Nick’s face down to his neck. If he really is cat ixtal, then this should be calming; cats love soft rubs to the backs of their necks and fingers ruffling through their fur, and Nick will probably be the same way. Lightly, Tim combs through the hair at the back of Nick’s head with lithe, calloused fingers that brush against spots of skin here and there and rub behind Nick’s ears along the way. Maybe he’ll just think it’s weird, not soothing or sweet, but still-

Oh.

Awww, that’s so cute- Nick sighs and relaxes into the sheets, his head craning closer to Tim’s chest until Tim can feel stray strands of Nick’s hair tickling the tip of his nose. Gently, Tim scritches his fingers among the airy, light, furlike hair, and Nick sighs even deeper, leaning close into Tim’s motions and touches. He looks so sweet and vulnerable like this, with his body curled up at Tim’s side, the frantic worrying at his lip gone as he seemingly drifts off to sleep.

Or tries to, at least. He’s still shaking his leg and moving his feet often enough to be counted as awake and restless.

In the end, after a handful more minutes of Nick’s soft sighs and his warmth leaching out into the blankets they share and into Tim’s skin itself, Nick sighs. “I still can’t sleep. ‘m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Tim mumbles through Nick’s soft, river-and-stone-scented hair. “I get nights like that, too. Wanna go down to the kitchen? I can make some lavender tea for us, and do some sleep magic if you feel like you need it.”

Gratefully, Nick’s wide brown-hazel eyes blink up at Tim, and, from this close, the myriad of beautiful colours is almost too much to handle. “Sounds nice,” he murmurs softly.

Slowly, so as not to disturb Nick who now has his fists curled up in little balls around Tim’s shirt, Tim sits up and Nick lets go. They make their way to the kitchen with quiet footsteps. Soves slinks along silently behind them, and Tim rubs her ears fondly - she’s much calmer and more used to Nick by now, it seems. As Tim brews tea and Nick sits at the table patiently waiting with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, Soves even ambles up to him and hops onto the table for pets. She mews at Nick. Nick scratches behind her ears. The light scent of lavender perfumes the kitchen as Tim scoops a few spoonfuls of dried petals into a teabag and sets the bag in the kettle. He pours milk into two cups, just a bit, and microwaves both, then adds in plenty of honey and the lavender tea, and he sets one mug in front of Nick and sits across from him with the other mug. Between them, Soves purrs.

Tim smiles sleepily at the scene, and Nick does, too.

Right now, they don’t need words. It’s peaceful as it is. Tim can almost feel that synergy between them coming back, and his magic leans into it, rushing to his fingertips in a desperate attempt to be close to Nick’s own untamed magic even as Tim holds it back. Bored, Tim lets it manifest in an ethereal flower made of shining magic, flickering with light and then quickly retreating into Tim’s warm hands again.

Nick chuckles and sips his tea. He seems to be calming down, at least, and so Tim doesn’t bother adding any sleep magic to Nick’s cup. Under the table, their socked toes brush against each other, and Nick’s teasingly nudge Tim’s, kicking off a little game of footsie. They end it by resting their ankles against each other - a silly little action, but a warm one, and a cosy one, and, if Tim might dare to think it, a loving one.

“Thanks,” Nick murmurs after going bottoms-up with the last swallow of his milk tea.

“You’re welcome,” Tim answers sweetly, swirling the shallow remains of his own drink absent-mindedly before deciding it’s too lukewarm, now, to bother with drinking.

They make sure to take that gentle, peaceful, contentedness in their hearts and bellies with them when they return to the attic.

This time, Nick falls asleep quickly - maybe not quickly, actually, but he doesn’t fidget so restlessly as he did before, and instead he hums quietly to random small questions Tim asks in the dead of night until Tim stops asking. When Tim next glances over at Nick, he’s fast asleep.

Good. Poor Nick, he not only deserves it but also probably needs it.

Tim, though, is not so lucky with his state of mind. Those thoughts... they keep coming back. Nick certainly isn’t guilty of anything, no, he’s innocent and sweet and so kind and loving. Just looking at him as he sleeps, with none of the nervousness and apprehension of the day written in his face, makes Tim’s heart bubble with happiness.

But he can’t deny that he has a bad feeling, and Miha had one too.

What do the gods have in store for him, now?

Tim hopes he’ll at least be able to find out with Nick at his side for whatever may come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O we hit 20 chapters! we're 1/5 of the way there! :D


	21. Chamomile Latte, Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick gets worried because he has no idea how to use his magic and yet Mihael and Luka want to teach him. He also runs out of meds. Without them, he goes through a combination of withdrawal and general increased anxiety. The next day, he has horrible nightmares - Tim senses something wrong and is there to calm him down. The day after that, he barely eats because he isn’t hungry, though Jus guilts him into eating a whole sandwich for dinner. Tim asks Nick to sleep on his floor or bring his camp bed to Tim’s room, since Nick has looked so off, lately. The next day, he helps Jus and Oskar in the kitchen, since it’s a busy day...  
> And maybe he slips up.

Learning magic? Now that’s something Nick hasn’t had to do in years - over a decade actually, at this point, no? A decade since he’s really been in school, properly learning magic.

And now Tim and Mihael and Luka want to try their hand at teaching him.

Well, then.

Nick runs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the anxious thoughts before returning to his work; he has a job to do, after all, a fun and important-ish and stressful job where others rely on him as part of a team rather than a lone ixtal trimming hedges for a quick buck. And he has a home, and support network, and someone who loves him, and people who care for him, and all in all the pressure is on in an entirely different way than Nick is used to dealing with, a way that he hasn’t had for years.

As much as Nick loves his life right now and is so grateful for Jus and Oskar giving him opportunity again, it’s scary.

And lately, he’s been feeling pretty scared.

Maybe that’s due to his own mistakes. His rhythm of taking his meds has been thoroughly jolted by now, between skipping days and taking it at the wrong times, but at least this morning, after the morning rush but before the lunch surge, Nick remembers to take the last pill in his bottle-

Wait.

The last pill?

Wasn’t- Didn’t he have enough? Or just barely enough? Wasn’t he going to be-

This is okay, this is fine. He must have accidentally taken double doses before, or miscounted how many he had left, those two weeks ago. Maybe it wasn’t thirteen, but rather eleven or ten or nine or one.

Nick takes a deep breath and swallows it down, hoping it’ll be fine.

He really hasn’t been good about taking his medicine on time, has he. Especially between the stress of his new job and the stress of more magic and the good stress of impressing Tim and being around him so often, pieces of Nick’s old daily routine seem to crumble like sand between his fingers. He doesn’t stretch painfully when he wakes up, now; there’s no need to when he sleeps on a soft cushion that his back is grateful for. He doesn’t shower in the morning or have to go hunting; his food is always plentiful and since Oskar and Jus shower in the morning, Nick has adjusted to night. No need to keep himself in half-sleep to watch out for hunting predators; he sleeps in a sheltered, safe, cosy house now.

And with all the other parts of his typical routine gone, it’s no wonder that he sometimes slips.

Moving almost on their own, by now, Nick’s hands manage to keep making the espressos Jus asks and pouring the drinks Oskar points to on the chart. With all the recent practice he’s had, Nick can normally manage just fine on his own, sometimes even not needing the lovely little diagram of drinks and measurements, but of course sometimes he falls back.

Today, he happily lets Oskar guide him more specifically, even if it means he gets some odd glances sometimes and on one horrible occasion entirely messes up a customer’s drink, pouring in coffee instead of the espresso her cappuccino needs. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. Her laugh as she tells him not to worry about it is kind, musical in a way that makes sense, given her butterfly wings and the guitar in its case slung over her shoulder. A music witch, likely. Though maybe a crystal witch, too, based on the handful of gems floating in the air around her and the sparkling dust on her wings.

He smiles at her, crinkling the corners of his eyes as politely as he can in a desperate attempt to not seem like a wreck to the only customer who has really looked at him.

She almost smiles back, but she, like everyone else, is in a slight hurry and walks away still smiling. Nick sighs in relief. At least she didn’t seem horrified by his state.

He really hasn’t been good about his meds. The dizziness and tightness and indescribable twitches are starting to build up in his chest - for now, Nick can shiver them away and keep working through it, but there’s a nagging worry in the back of his mind, reminding him that the hell he’ll go through is his own fault. If he could stop thinking about it, maybe he’ll be alright.

But he can’t.

Between every cup of coffee made and every delicious drink served, Nick can feel his body responding to his mental tumult. It feels a bit like his heart is pounding, not painfully or scarily hard but certainly noticeable. No physical effects of the lack of medicine yet, probably. It’s too soon for that. No, this must be his own stupid fault. Wouldn’t be the first time Nick has worried his way into a panic attack.

He manages to make it through the day without too many mishaps. It’s rough, but manageable for now, just barely, and thanks to gentle reassurances from Jus and Oskar taking over part of his duties when Nick is too slow, there’s a valve for him to reach for when he’s in need. The day doesn’t pass without a struggle, of course, but he makes it all the same, and he weakly smiles to himself once the day is finished and he can hang up his apron, get a cup of tea made fresh by Tim, and sit on the sofa with Tim at his side while Jus and Oskar sort something out with the shop fridge, which is acting up for unknown magical reasons. Hopefully Oskar can fix it while Nick does his best to not fall asleep on Tim’s shoulder and Tim offers meaningless suggestions from the sidelines.

Nick makes it through dinner, too, managing to stay awake by some miracle, and his shower doesn’t end in him falling over with exhaustion or even crying his eyes out! Right now, it’s the small victories that count, especially when he feels like he’s on a cosmic downturn. The little things keep on coming, too, with Tim sneaking up as per usual to lie in Nick’s bed and even Soves settling down in a cat-loaf at Nick’s bedside, though Soves still refuses to lie on the bed. Nick doesn’t blame her, she’s just not comfortable enough with either of them, yet, and she has her own pride and personality. As long as she doesn’t try to scratch him, they’ll remain on good terms. He’s gotten in catfights before; it never ends nicely or prettily.

With Tim at his side, all the troubles seem to melt away at the same time that they intensify. Being with Tim feels right and yet it also makes a bubble of fear and pain well up in his gut, fear that Nick will never be enough for Tim and the pain caused by being unable to tell Tim who and what he really is.

But Nick is a shapeshifter, he should be used to that aspect of his deceit by now.

Thankfully, the warmth of a fellow body does a lot to soothe Nick’s nerves, and, if he were any more courageous, the cuddling might also help. For now, though, no cuddles or kisses or anything other than an occasional head-bump and shoulder-tap and hand-hold - he can’t in good conscience let Tim get too much closer without finding some sort of way to tell him the impossible truth. These small touches will be enough to get Nick through tonight, at the very least, and so Nick consoles himself with the promise of “maybe tomorrow,” and he doesn’t fight it when sleepiness overtakes him. Anxiety always saps a lot of his strength on the days when it flares up.

In the midst of it all, as Nick drifts into the nothingness of sleep, Tim lies down next to him and puts his own spellbook away, then curls up at Nick’s side, between him and the door, keeping him as safe as possible.

Nick smiles. Tim is so sweet, isn’t he.

And then Nick knows nothing but the void of unconsciousness.

\---

When Nick wakes up, he’s back on the street. His luggage looks cleaner than before, less scuffed and almost new, the way it had looked when his favourite teacher at that private school gave it to him as a going-away present. Lucky she did. If she hadn’t, Nick almost certainly would be down to only a handful of items, now. He pulls his two suitcases behind him and desperately seeks shelter from the cold, wet half-rain-half-snow. Nothing quite feels real. Maybe that’s just the absurd circumstances he finds himself in as a 19-year-old forced out of his home of 4 years and into... into... something. Nothing.

It’s hard.

In the end, all he finds is a bridge. It’s... it’s a nice enough bridge, pretty far from the busiest parts of the city, and the water in the creek beneath it runs smooth and cold and clear, and beyond it lies the forest, so there should be some hunting available if Nick can figure out how to hunt.

Tonight, he’s had his last meal from that home. And now begins the real world.

Nick cowers in a corner under the bridge as he tries to remove the windproof, waterproof outer jacket he’s wearing like a protective carapace in order to add another thick sweater underneath. Somewhat succeeding at that, he tries to curl up in a position that feels comfortable enough. It takes ages to find something - maybe Nick isn’t ready for this. Maybe they’ll let him stay another day. A night, at least. With a mattress, even if the mattress is just thin padding over pointy springs, and blankets, scratchy but warm, and someone who doesn’t care about him but is legally obligated to care for him.

In a way, though, Nick is too exhausted, emotionally and mentally and physically, to try that feeble option, and so he stays with the bridge.

By the time he manages to find a decent position, he’s not sure if he’s truly comfortable or just too exhausted to care. And he’s still cold, and really, he just wants to cry. No one is watching. Why bother to try to hold himself together?

So he curls up and cries and shivers and cowers until a thin veil of sleep falls over him, and he thanks Lillia for her kindness when no other god has shown it.

\---

A voice comes to him through the veil.

“Nick?”

He tries to ignore it; who knows what could be calling him out here - evil spirits, monstrous cat-eaters, people who wish him ill. But soon, the voice builds and there’s a horrible shaking at his side, is the bridge falling? Is this a final act of mercy for Nick’s misery?

“Nick!”

He bolts upright in his bed, in his attic, in their house, and frantically looks around.

Warmth.

No snow.

Soft blankets.

No jacket, just his favourite hoodie and a duvet.

The soft light of a glowing orb-lamp.

And a gentle hand on his arm.

Nick lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Nick?” Tim asks, his voice light this time.

All Nick can do is breathe, as deeply as he can, in the hopes that it will wash away the horrible memories of that night. Cool fingertips touch against his cheek and turn his face towards Tim, and Nick is too tired and scared to fight how his eyes gravitate to Tim’s own as they blink with a wetness his brain can’t comprehend.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You’re crying... Here.” The fingertips turn into soft cloth - Tim’s sleeves - that wipe away the saltwater, and Nick breathes another deep, trembling sigh. “It’s alright,” Tim soothes, “just a bad dream. But you’re here with me, now.”

Gentle, thin hands rub Nick’s back, staying steady and calm even as Nick’s entire body shakes.

“You’re here, okay?” Tim says in his sweetest voice, the one he used with Nick when Shadow was just a cat trying to snag some food, “you’re here, I’m here, you’re okay. We’re here and we’ll be okay.”

Nick would believe it, if he could forget how cold it was and how much he shivered and how much he’s shivering right now.

“I’m going to hug you, okay?” Tim asks, and only then does Nick notice Tim’s hands migrating over his body, rubbing up and down his arms and easing up to his shoulders. When Nick doesn’t say a word, Tim hums and slowly leans in. “It’s okay,” he repeats. His arms wrap around Nick’s shaking body with a blanket, one of the soft, thin ones Tim loves to snuggle, and, cautiously, envelop Nick in a hug. “I’ve got you,” he whispers against Nick’s ears. “I’ve got you.”

Bit by bit, with Tim’s ministrations helping to bring him back out of the nightmare, Nick eases down. He still doesn’t feel right, but he’s better than before, at least - in more ways than just dealing with the nightmare. Tentatively, he might even think he’ll be okay today. Even if he’s now awake at 2 in the morning and Tim is in the same boat.

“It’s okay,” Tim soothes, the tips of his fingers brushing through Nick’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

And Nick can almost believe it.

\---

As with most things these days, Nick tries not to think about the nightmare too much, although it’s not so much a nightmare as a memory. Tim asks him about it while they toast spices for tea and prepare for the day, moving around each other with sleepy rhythms in a slow but beautiful dance, still not as seamless as Jus and Oskar but with mistakes that they both chuckle at.

Nick really, really, really hates lying to Tim, but what choice does he have here? He makes up a story about being chased by a wolf and Tim gives him a little look, full of trust and yet deep, aching concern, and Nick pushes down the bubble of tears and hysteria that threatens to rise to the surface with a pop. It catches in his throat, so he doesn’t eat.

But without his anxiety medicine, and with the accompanying surge of anxiety that is both chemical and circumstantial anxiety about not having enough meds, it’s not like Nick feels hungry anyway.

Even if he does get a bit dizzy after no breakfast and a late lunch.

Honestly, it’s not the hunger that gets Nick. He really doesn’t feel hungry, as weird as that is, especially not when he’s been standing in one spot the entire day and it’s been a good chunk of time since he last ate. Perhaps his stomach has taught itself to shut up if not fed for a while. How efficient of it.

But while the hunger is totally manageable, the nausea is what could ruin him. Nick isn’t a feeble-stomached man; he’s eaten mouse fur and bird feathers and a lot of (relatively clean!) dumpster trash with the safety of his cat-body at the helm. Now, though, is completely different. The anxiety has reached nauseating levels that threaten to overwhelm him - which, of course, only increases his anxiety. It’s not like he can just walk out of the shop, Jus and Oskar need his help! And it’s not as simple as making himself something to eat or grabbing something from the shop when he doesn’t have the time. But if he doesn’t eat he might faint, or weaken enough that his magic slips out of control, or...

If he thinks about it too much, Nick will have a panic attack. Best to just... not think. He throws himself into his work with abandon, hoping that will be some sort of bandage over the gaping wound, and, though he has no medication today, and he’s not hungry, perhaps he will be fine anyway. There’s a horrible feeling of nausea building in the back of his throat, but perhaps it will be alright. Just a consequence of missing breakfast, probably. Nothing to do with how he messed up his meds and is even more anxious than the day before, partially because of the natural state of his brain returning and the anxiety that comes from missing medications, especially when he can’t stop thinking about them and how stupid he was to ever forget a day when he has it ingrained in his memory and he knows the consequences perfectly well.

“Latte, double shot, with the pumpkin-spice syrup,” Jus says softly when Nick does not respond to his request the first time. Nick rushes to get the order fulfilled once he properly hears the request, and he hands the drink to a tall faun with a sheepish smile. Thankfully, the faun seems more interested in his own phone than Nick’s manic mishaps.

If only everything else could also ignore Nick while he crumbles under his own weight.

\---

The next day is when it starts to sink in. Nick can’t keep himself from jittering, shaking, quivering with a mix of fear and a need to get away. Not run away - he doesn’t consider that any more, not unless it’s a worst-case scenario, not when Oskar and Jus have given him so much and Tim has waited so long for him. And Nick likes Tim, too.

When he admits it to himself like that, there’s such a power in it that it seems to almost take away part of his fear, his worry. Nick wishes he could just tell Tim already. It would make things easier... or ruin them forever.

Forget that idea. He can’t just destroy everything he’s been given in the blink of an eye.

It would be a disgrace to himself, to Jus and Oskar, and, most importantly, to Tim.

And so Nick can’t do that.

He’s really starting to feel it now. Maybe it’s just a placebo effect, and not really real, the tingliness in his heart and the thrumming and the jitteriness running through his legs and the utter fear and the weird dizziness, but no, the weird dizziness is definitely a panic attack. But Nick can survive it, he’s done it before and he’ll do it again, he’s fine, really, he’s fine. He tries his hardest to work through it.

Jus makes him take a break and even calls Tim in from the garden to work in the shop. All Nick can think about is how much of a horrible bother he is, that he’s messing up their schedules and rhythms and making Oskar work with Tim instead of letting him and Jus stay at each others’ sides. “Really, it’s fine,” he stammers once Jus drags him into the kitchen. “I’m alright. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you haven’t eaten anything today, either,” Jus says, raising his eyebrow and glancing at Nick as he seamlessly pulls out a package of noodles from a cabinet and vegetables from the fridge, each item lifting itself through the air propelled by thin tendrils of barely-visible magic. “So you are going to sit at the table and I will make tea and lunch for you.”

“Okay,” Nick peeps. He sits down, and only then does the exhaustion wash over him. Sometimes he forgets he’s having a panic attack when he has one, but now it all comes flooding back to him like a tidal wave. Of course, it’s still going, and so the wave doesn’t bring cool, soothing relief. His heart still pounds too hard, and nothing feels real. But at least he’s not wobbling on his feet any more.

Though, time does pass too quickly. With the panic attack distorting all his senses, Nick doesn’t realise how long it’s been until Jus sets a bowl of hot, steaming ramen in front of him, next to a cup of cool water and a mug of fresh tea - chamomile, by the smell of it. “Eat first,” Jus says. “Then you can tell me what’s up.” His smile is kind as he starts to eat his own bowl of noodles.

Nick stirs up a bit of the broth and sips each spoonful slowly, sighing at the warmth of it settling in his stomach and radiating out through his body.

“ ‘s it good?”

“It’s good,” Nick answers with a slight smile.

“Good.” Drops of hot-sweet chilli oil glisten on the noodles in Jus’s bowl, sliding around in a beautiful gloss over the bite of food Jus had made for himself. “So. What’s on your mind?” He scarfs down the noodles on his fork, then follows that with a big bite of the various veg in their bowls, and Nick suddenly realises how hungry he is as his anxiety slowly ebbs.

But never fades - it never fades.

For a little while, Nick chooses to eat rather than answer. He’s hungry, almost painfully hungry and deeply grateful for Jus’s kindness, and so it takes some effort to keep himself from devouring the ramen and giving himself a horrible tummyache, but he manages to properly pace himself.

“I’m waiting,” Jus reminds him.

“I know.”

And Nick sets down his fork, chewing the delicious noodles a little while before falling silent as he tries to come up with the words.

“It’s... hard.”

Jus hums and spears another pea, then chomps into it. “Could you try?” he asks with his emotions written on his face. “I’m worried, Nick, you know how I get about people, Oskar gave you the whole interrogation and all.”

“I know, Jus,” Nick mumbles with a joyless smile. “I... I feel kind of anxious.”

“Kind of?”

“Very anxious,” Nick concedes. He sips another spoonful of broth to buy himself some time to think. “I... It’ll pass, it’s just... a lot.”

“No, I understand,” Jus murmurs through a mouthful of noodles. “I get a lot of anxiety whenever Oskar leaves on hunting trips. Obviously he’s going to be okay, but... still.” He glances at Nick. “It’s not the same, but I understand the feeling.”

Nick meekly nods.

“Finish your noodles and soup, alright? And Oskar and I are always here to talk, no matter what. And I promise you we won’t judge or offer unwanted advice unless you ask for it.”

“”Unwanted advice that I ask for?” Nick jokes weakly.

Jus simply chuckles. “Yes, unwanted wanted advice. If you need anything, we’re here.”

“Thanks, Jus.”

As they wash their dishes, the pounding in Nick’s chest increases, swelling like a cresting wave into a cacophonous rush of blood through his ears and he breathes in deep and then-

Exhale.

Descent.

The wind-down.

His panic attack is over, and exhaustion sloshes around his feet like the scraps of a wave left in the surge’s wake.

“Nick?”

“Mm?”

“Hey, you look like you’re about to pass out...” A gentle hand rests on Nick’s shoulder, and he roughly blinks himself awake, trying to shake the sleep off his shoulders - he can’t be falling asleep, he has work to do, he needs to help Oskar and Jus. He desperately wants to be helpful.

“Fine,” Nick answers shakily.

Jus gives him a Look™. “Take a nap, Nick, you look exhausted.”

“Don’t wanna... you need help in th’ shop...”

“We’ll be just fine. Take a nap.”

Nick sighs like a child forced to go to bed too soon, but he can’t deny how good a nap sounds right now, especially after all anxiety has drained from him and missing out on his typical midday catnaps for the past month, almost.

“I can handle the dishes, just go,” Jus says fondly.

“Mmkay...” He puts the dishtowel down and his bowl and spoon and chopsticks in the drying rack, and Nick suppresses a yawn as he steps away from work for the first time in too long.

“Psst- Nick?”

“Huh?” That nap does sound really good, actually.

“Your ears are out. Just keep those in mind, alright?”

Oh, they must have popped out with how sleepy he is. He’s so tired, he needs to remember that before he fatally errs. “Okay,” Nick mumbles, magicking them away with natural, practised ease.

“Now go take a nap, you look like a living corpse.”

“Alright, I’m going,” Nick says, faking exasperation even as his eyelids droop. He trudges to his bed, barely managing to swap into sweatpants rather than his nice jeans he wears while working in the shop.

He has the deepest, sweetest sleep he’s had in ages, even if it’s only for a few hours, and the dreamlessness of it can only mean Nick desperately needed a rest.

\---

Tim wakes him up for dinner with a hand on his shoulder and a sweet smile that only looks even more angelic as traces of dusk and the glow of the lamp make the strands of his pale, fluffy hair seem to shine from within. “A nap, huh?” he asks with an adorable little smile as Nick sits up and neatens out his hair.

“Yeah,” Nick yawns. “Was tired.”

“You have been skipping all those midday naps you talked about, huh,” Tim says offhandedly.

“Mhm.”

“Come on,” Tim cheers, tugging Nick up from his bed by the hand. “Jus is making noodle stir-fry!”

“Okay, okay, give me a minute.” Isn’t Tim so cute with how eager he is? His pretty grey-green eyes seem to sparkle with magic and happiness, and Nick feels happier just looking at him.

“I have to get some more vegetables from the garden in a bit, I left the basket out there on accident. But I think Oskar and Jus wanted your help to clean up the shop so Jus can start making dinner,” Tim chatters. He’s in a good mood, and utterly adorable.

“Did something funny happen today? You’re chattery,” Nick notes with a smile.

Tim just giggles. “I’ll tell you later. Now come on, you slept for a long time, the shop is already closed!”

With a sleepy smile, Nick gets out of bed and follows Tim down to the shop, and, as Tim hurries off to the garden to gather his baskets and bring them in to keep them safe from the frost coming tonight, Nick starts pushing chairs in and wiping down tables. It’s not easy work, per se, but it’s simple. It’s also enough to make Nick warm up a bit in his sleeping hoodie, so he knocks its hood back to cool down to normal temperature again while Jus starts cooking, based on the smells and sounds coming from the kitchen, and Oskar travels back and forth between the shop front and the kitchen.

“Hey, Oskar,” Nick says with a relaxed yawn, picking up some mugs that look clean enough and stacking them neatly for ease of use tomorrow.

They’re bustling by each other while they work, as per usual. Nick makes sure to not stand in front of the shop fridge, just to let Oskar have some room to move. “Oh, hi Ni- shit,” Oskar curses, and Nick immediately wheels around to see what he might have dropped.

...but Oskar is just staring at him. “Hm?” Nick asks in a still-drowsy mumble.

“Nick,” Oskar hisses in a whisper.

“Mmyeah?”

“Your ears!”

“Ears?”

Quickly, Oskar pats his head where his dog-ears sprout from, and Nick mimics him, patting along where his hood would have hidden just moments ago, and-

Oh, gods, his ears are-

Behind him, the door, the one that leads to the garden and Tim, creaks open, and everything is a blur and yet takes too much damn time to get through, and Nick’s heart freezes with panic.

“Hey Nick,” says Tim lightly as he steps into the shop. There’s a basket on his hip - parsnips and kale. “Hey Jus,” he continues, speaking louder to make sure Jus can hear him through the walls and turning to set his basket down, and he looks over to where the three of them stand by the shop counter. Tim’s face is in a soft smile - Nick’s eyes latch onto it - and the corners of his lips quirk up so adorably, and his slender, dusty hands brush against his apron, leaving a smudged dirt trail, and Nick is helpless, frozen, heart in his throat, blood gone from his face and into his legs and arms. The door is still ajar. The basket of parsnips and kale still rests on the small table next to it. “Hey Osk- oh!”

And Tim notices.

Of course he notices.

He notices everything.

“Wait, Nick, are you ixtal?”

With nowhere else to turn, Nick resorts to what he’s always done best.

He shifts into a cat. His paws skitter roughly along the floor. His eyes focus on the gap in the door, the perfect escape, and if not that then the cat-door Tim never took out, and if not that then Nick will claw his way free until he’s safe again and how could he have fucked this up but it’s too late now.

And he runs.

“Shadow?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, i promise i wont make you wait too long for the next chapter :)


	22. Water and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has been found out. There's no hiding who or what he is, now.  
> And hell hath no fury like an animal cornered.
> 
> And yet...  
> Heaven hath no angel as careful and gentle and forgiving as Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is out faster! as an author's little apology for for the cliffhanger <3
> 
> TW: mention of blood and mild injuries (scratches)
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

He would know that cat anywhere.

It’s his own, his dear, the one he loved so much that he couldn’t bear to let go without trying to hold on, that he wanted to become his familiar for gentleness and friendliness.

It’s Shadow.

And when Shadow - Nick - bolts for the open door behind him, all Tim can think is that he refuses to allow it to happen again. Not when they can talk it out, when Tim has so much more to lose and Nick might hurt himself or worse out in the city as a small, defenseless cat. Tim only realises his mistake when Shadow hisses at him and twin scratches dig into his forearm.

He’s just tried to grab a frightened cat.

In his arms, in a blur, Shadow turns into Nick and back again, and Tim struggles to hold on. Somehow he manages to remember to pull the door shut, so that at least Nick will have to open the door with human hands if he wants to get out. Finding no escape, though, Shadow worms and twists away from Tim’s hold. He sprints across the shop, knocking chairs off their designated spots and almost certainly accumulating bruises along the way as he hurtles toward the shop’s front door. Oskar, though, with similarly sharp reflexes, already stands there.

The door is firmly locked. Nick turns to the kitchen in a blaze of gold and red, half-sunlight and half-catpelt. He rockets like a comet into the kitchen probably hoping to escape through the window, but before he makes it there, the door to the kitchen swings shut and Tim can hear it click latched - Jus’s magic at work.

Out of options, Nick runs towards Tim with a desperate bid to open the door behind him and then dart through the gap.

Out of options, Tim prepares to catch the cat hurtling into him-

And catches a human.

Nick, who throws open the door roughly, rattling its weary old knob.

He very nearly makes it out through the door as he shifts back into a cat, faster than Tim has ever seen any shifter change shapes, but Tim just barely manages to wrap his arms around Shadow and clutch him tightly. The door swings shut again thanks to a surge of magic that isn’t Tim’s - probably Oskar.

Tim thinks for a moment that it’s alright, Nick is in his arms, he isn’t running away, they’re safe and sound together with some trust issues to work through but nothing they can’t handle. Then there’s a splash of magic that rolls against his face like a soft spray of water, and the cat in his arms expands unstoppably into man. Tim struggles to his feet, trying to regain some sort of control even as the shape in his arms refuses to stay in one mould for long at all. From cat to human in the span of a moment, it gets hard to hold onto. Desperately, when the form becomes cat-like again, enough to be firm in Tim’s arms, Tim squeezes Shadow to his chest, trying to pin Shadow’s legs and paws beneath him to keep him immobilised for his own safety and others.

He has grabbed a frightened cat.

Really, was Tim expecting anything else? What could he do? Is there any other way this could have ended?

Slash.

Tim doesn’t realise what’s happening, only that his cheeks are wet and he’s certainly not crying. Something hurts a bit. He doesn’t quite feel like he’s in the moment - something greater than him is controlling him, almost possessing him. Distantly, he remembers the symptoms of divine intervention and Tim comes to the vague conclusion that some sort of god is interfering in his life, setting it back on track at a point where it threatens to diverge.

He thinks he hears Jus gasp and Oskar snarl. Wonder what’s up with them.

Tim just keeps holding onto Nick as best as he can. There’s a sharp pinch in his nose, over its bridge, and something warm and cool and very wet starts to pool there. Maybe his nose is running, now that’s embarrassing, isn’t it. He runs a soothing hand over Shadow’s back as Shadow squirms in his hold. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he croons.

There’s another tingling, now in his other cheek.

And then...

Everything stops for a second.

Tim looks down at the warm, frightened bundle of fur in his arms, and for a moment Nick simply watches him in return with that familiar, observant gaze all cats seem to naturally have. When he starts shaking, though, Tim knows something is horribly wrong and Nick does not stop. He starts squirming again, but not in the same way, not trying to get away yet but instead... panting? He gasps for breath with a whistly, reedy noise, his head whipping around seemingly aimlessly.

“Shh, Nick, it’s okay,” Tim soothes.

But as soon as Nick’s eyes lock onto Tim’s face, he leaps out of Tim’s arms and shifts into a human, and everything starts to move like the world is lagging behind reality.

The door opens behind Tim.

“Nick, no!”

Tugged forward by his hand clasping Nick’s shirt even as it melts away into magic between his fingers, Tim stumbles over the door’s threshold. He barely manages to keep himself from falling onto the concrete step that would surely smash his kneecaps, though landing face-first in the cold, hard dirt isn’t much better.

But he has to keep going, even though his legs feel weak and the wetness on his face smarts at the jolt. At least he didn’t land on his right side, the one pouring red down.

Tim heaves himself to his feet and starts running after Nick, a small cat in the garden, now.

But Nick has stopped running, and stands just at the edge of the hedges.

Tim crumples to his knees and reaches out a hand.

“It’s okay, Nick.”

Nick stares at him, his hackles raised, ears flattened, eyes wide and terrified.

“It’s okay, shh, come here, it’s okay.”

As Nick glances at the fence, the fence Tim knows he can get through, Tim’s heart sinks.

“Pspspsps... shh, come here, shhhh, come here, Nick.”

Nick shakes his little cat-head and shuts down, burying his snout in the grass and his paws over his ears. Gingerly, Tim’s fingers stretch out to him. Bit by bit, time flowing slow and thick like molasses or honey or coconut cream pie filling, Tim inches forward, though Nick does not move.

One careful centimetre of advance turns into two, and three, and four, and five and ten and fifteen and fifty and a metre, and after enough patience and soothing calls, Nick’s little head is buried in Tim’s grass-stained thighs and Tim scoops him up into warm arms. He finds himself with a lapful of scared, anxious, panicking human, quaking and sobbing into his shoulder and hugging him tight.

“I’ve got you,” Tim murmurs, rubbing Nick’s back.

“I’ve got you.”

Nick’s only answer is a sob.

Carefully, Tim guides Nick back up to standing, still holding him gently even as Nick stands just a bit taller than him - though the way Nick crumples into his arms evens their heights out considerably. “Come on, let’s go inside,” Tim whispers. “It’s cold out.”

Nick nods against Tim’s shoulder, but can’t seem to move. Even his muscles are locked in place as Tim tries to help him stand.

“Here, I’ll carry you.” Tim’s fingertips gently caress Nick’s tabby-yellow cat ears, trying to soothe him from an unknown scare the same way he would comfort Shadow - Nick - in the beginning. Between his fingers, Nick slips away into magic that morphs back into his cat form, much easier to hold. His warm weight in Tim’s arms fulfills that desperate need to keep him safe, the need that Tim feels pulling at his every action. Poor, poor Nick. Oh, Nick. With Nick in his arms, Tim slowly stands, rubbing the back of Nick’s little neck, and Nick tucks his face into the crook of Tim’s elbow. His eyes are squinted shut.

Poor Nick.

Soft songs, little Slovenian lullabies and hums and sweet sounds cats love pour from Tim’s lips, anything to keep the cat in his arms calm as he carries Nick to his bedroom, but first... First he’ll have to pass Jus and Oskar, one of whom carries a package of medical supplies and wears a deeply concerned frown, the other with an expression as though he wants to murder someone for hurting Tim. “I’m fine,” Tim whispers before Oskar can get any ideas. He subconsciously holds Nick even closer.

Oskar doesn’t say a word as Jus wipes Tim’s cheeks clean of blood. It stings somewhat. The antibiotic Jus smears on stings more, though. “The long one needs stitches,” Jus murmurs as he tapes on a piece of gauze and gets out more butterfly bandages. “Tim, we need to get you to the doctor.”

“No!” he says too loud, “no. Not yet. I just...” His arms hug Nick even tighter, and his fingertips absentmindedly trail through Nick’s soft fur as Nick starts to tremble again. “It’ll be fine. Not like I hit an artery or something.”

“Tim...”

“It’ll be fine, Jus. Please.”

Jus sighs and stares back at him with resignation in his face and sadness in his eyes. “Five minutes,” he murmurs. “You can have five minutes.” He checks his watch. “Go on,” he says with a glance at Tim though Oskar is glaring holes in the side of Jus’s head.

“Thank you, Jus.”

Tim does his best to not jostle Nick around too much as they climb the stairs. He searches his mind for some sort of solution, then sets Nick gently on the thick, plush blankets of his bed and searches his room for the same. Surely he should have some charms and crystals - not a permanent solution, but for a quick object to focus on and extract energy from, both should do fine. Alas, his search yields little else but a piece of quartz, well-worn and almost certainly uncharged. It lies on the bed next to Nick, who has curled up into a ball, and the stone seems almost to glare at Tim.

Do something.

Help him.

Something, anything.

Into Tim’s mind pops an idea as though perfectly placed there, a tidy package in a bit of gift wrapping. There should be something, a trinket he uses whenever the nightmares get bad, hidden under his bed. Quickly, Tim pulls a storage bin out and opens it up, revealing the soft, snuggly contents inside.

“Here, hold this,” he says, putting one of the items on the bed next to Nick. “It’s not perfect, but it calms me down a lot. It’s a lavender-stuffed pillow.” A puff of magic indicates that Nick has shifted back into a human, as do the legs dangling from Tim’s bed as he puts the storage bin back under it. Nick is terribly cute, clutching to the soft, purple, tear-stained pillow. If he weren’t crying, Tim would love seeing him so sweet-looking. “Um, and... here, have you had water recently? I’ll get you a cup of water.”

Stiffly, Nick nods, his joints still seemingly locked into place more often than they move freely.

“I’ll be right back.” Moving as quickly as his human feet will allow him without the influence of a god, Tim darts to the bathroom. There’s a little cup there, they usually use it for rinsing out their mouths, and Nick usually likes using his hands to scoop up water from the faucet- it’ll work now. Tim fills the little cup with water and hurries back, fully prepared to have Nick drink the entire little cup’s-worth of water in one or two goes.

“Is that good?” Tim says cautiously as Nick swallows up sip by sip of the cool water. “Do you need anything?”

Nick shakes his head, still trembling. Drops of water shiver and shake out of the cup, but most land on Nick’s lips, at least; as long as Nick is getting some water in him, Tim doesn’t mind too much.

“Can... can I hug you? It’s okay if you’d rather not.”

Frozen, but slowly thawing, Nick’s hands reach out and tug at the hem of Tim’s shirt.

Tim takes the hint and sits down to wrap his arms around Nick.

Nick sighs and leans into the touch, still shaking with his sobs.

“Nick?”

“Mm?”

“Is it anxiety?”

He nods.

“There’s... a technique my therapist taught me, when I was younger. Do you want to try it?”

He nods.

“Okay,” Tim murmurs, trying to recall the techniques he’s used so often, “Um- name 5 things you can see for me, okay?”

“You,” Nick answers first. “Pillow. H-hands, your shirt. Um... myself.” His breaths quiver against the hairs on the back of Tim’s neck, warm and light.

“And four you can feel?” Tim leads gently.

“Pillow. You. Your shirt, my shirt.”

“Three you can... hear, I think,” he hums. “Yes. Three you can hear.”

“You. Me. Jus and O-Oskar,” Nick answers, though Tim cannot hear them at all. It must be the soft cat ears atop his head that swivel back and forth, then flick nervously. If Tim had any more courage, he would pepper them in kisses and let Nick rub his face against Tim’s, but he does not, and so Tim restrains himself.

“Two you can smell,” he says.

“Lavender,” Nick answers yet again. “And- you.”

“And one you can taste?”

“...Water?”

“Yeah.” Tim leans back just a little, just enough to see Nick’s wide brown eyes staring up at him, soaked in tears. “Is that a little better?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Good.” Soft chuckles spill from Tim’s lips. This time, he narrowly dodges the urge to kiss Nick. Now is not the time. Speaking of time- “I think Jus wants me to go soon. Stay here, alright?” Tim croons, his fingers tracing over the little divot behind Nick’s cat-ears. “I’ll be back soon. It won’t take long.” At least he hopes it won’t.

Feebly, Nick nods, though his head still rests against Tim’s waist, pressed there as though Tim is the only solace in a world of terror.

“Tim, we have to go,” Jus murmurs with a sharp rap of his knuckles against Tim’s door.

Tim nods and follows after tucking Nick into his own bed and with one last touch to Nick’s hand, doing his best to ignore the wetness soaking through the makeshift bandages on his face.

\---

Jus carries him to Aaron’s office in one of the chairs. It’s easy work for Jus’s magic, especially with how strong it is. Tim knows he would have no strength to do this on his own, not with the pain in his face and the exhaustion in his body from coping with the wounds, and even in perfect condition it would be difficult.

The cool weather, cold with dark night skies, doesn’t help. It’s cold enough that Tim has to put on his thick jacket again, with its little buttercups hand-embroidered on the hems, and yet Tim cannot cover his face lest the bandages be jolted or tug at his wounds and make him bleed even more. His only solace is that the trembling, fearful chill soothes a bit of the hot, red sting in his cheeks.

Aaron takes one look at Tim when Jus carries him in and then whisks Tim off to the patients’ room. Sitting on a bed, there, under the bright lights while Jus explains the nature of the scratches and his makeshift treatments, nothing quite feels real.

Somewhere, just a few blocks away, Nick is curled up in Tim’s bed next to a lingering quartz crystal, sipping from a cup of bathroom tap water and clinging onto a lavender-stuffed pillow for dear life.

And Tim wants nothing more than to be with Nick right now.

He gets snapped back to reality when Aaron starts explaining the process of local anaesthetic while prepping the needle and his thread.

In the end, it’s just one line, seven stitches along his right cheek, running like a train track alongside its two shallower, un-stitched companions. The damage, Tim only now realises, is actually more than he’d thought. He hadn’t felt it at the time, but both of his cheeks have pretty obvious marks. There’s a series of stars along his left cheekbone, his own tiny constellation, and a single swipe across the bridge of his nose, and the railroad from the outer corner of Tim’s eye down to his jawline.

The stitches don’t feel like much of anything - they tug a little, sure, but thanks to the local anaesthetic, there’s no actual pain. Still, looking at his own face feels weird, now that it’s dotted with a line of stitches and two shallower red scratches down his right cheek, a short slash on his nose and punctures on his left cheek. It’s like the mirror has failed, like the injuries and repairs aren’t real, somehow, as if in reality, Tim’s face is fine. The absence of feeling in his face is all that signals anything unusual.

Hopefully Nick doesn’t think it too horrible or off-putting.

\---

Eager to get home, both to show off his new permanent accessories and to make sure Nick is alright, Tim nearly runs the few blocks home, though Jus follows shortly behind. He bursts through the door with nothing on his mind but Nick. Under his feet, the stairs creak in protest at his speed, but Tim neglects them for now; he has more pressing things to take care of, like the cat ixtal sleeping peacefully in his bed, even if all Tim has to do is ease the door open a crack and make sure he’s still-

He’s gone.

A shot of ice trickles down Tim’s spine. Maybe he’s in his own room? Yes, that must be... Tim does his best to stay calm and unhurried as he pries open the trapdoor to the attic to poke his head in.

No one there.

Quickly, Tim goes back to his own room and checks his bed more thoroughly. If Nick is a cat again, then Tim’s initial sweep of the room wouldn’t necessarily be enough to spot him, especially with how good cats are at hiding. But there’s no pretty golden tabby cat in Tim’s bed, or, when he double-checks the attic, there either. And Nick wouldn’t go in Jus and Oskar’s room, since he’d sneeze up a storm, right? So he wouldn’t be there... Tim checks anyway, and, as expected, no Nick there either.

Where is he?

Oskar stayed home for a reason, to watch and keep Nick safe, keep him from running away for real or doing something rash, and so Tim hurries down to the kitchen. They’re talking when he gets there, staring at each other. Tim hates having to interrupt, but his heart pounds with fear. What else can he do?

“O-Oskar? Where’s Nick? Where did he-”

Oskar nods towards the door to the garden.

Tim’s heart stops.

“He’s waiting for you,” says Oskar softly.

A seed of determination settles in Tim’s heart as it kickstarts again, and Tim sighs in relief with the comfortable rhythm in his chest returning. There’s something he’ll have to do tonight, at some point, just to keep them safe, to keep Nick by his side - though maybe Nick doesn’t want to be there. Tim will cross that bridge when he gets to it.

The door creaks as Tim’s light fingers ease it open. “Nick?” he calls softly. “Oskar said... he said you were here somewhere...”

With eyes wide and almost as scared as Tim’s, Nick stares back from the porch swing.

“...can I sit with you?”

As though he’s just become unfrozen, Nick shakes himself. “Y-yeah,” he stammers, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. He’s already sitting on one side of the swing, Tim observes, the same sides they always used to take when Nick was just a customer and their flirting was constant.

Gently, Tim eases himself down onto the swing, and the tips of his toes brush against the earth beneath them as he pushes them back and forth. “It’s a bit chilly,” he notes. The cold almost erases the burning heat of his wounds - not quite, though, and his entire face still feels hot.

“It is.”

The swing is shaking so hard it feels like it could vibrate Tim’s heartbeat off its course.

“Tim?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” says Nick, lips trembling. An impossible urge to just hold him again, to keep Nick tight to Tim’s chest and have his breaths brushing against Tim’s shirt and his ears fixed on Tim’s heartbeat forever, swells over Tim, and yet all he can do is touch Nick’s hand.

“It’s okay. It’s not just your fault, I grabbed you, too,” Tim murmurs. “Of course that would have scared you.” Accidents like this don’t happen just because of one person, of course, and perhaps more importantly Nick shouldn’t blame himself. This, Tim knows for certain.

And yet, Nick looks utterly broken. “...your face...” he whispers in a horrible awe. Light, fragile, oh-so-thin fingertips - why is Nick so thin? - brush against Tim’s cheek. Tim shuts his eyes to control the urge to jerk away. “Oh- I’m so sorry, I don’t know...”

“That’s alright,” Tim says as Nick retreats his fingers. Bleakly, he turns to stare at the ground, poor thing. “Nick, are you okay?”

“I-I’m okay,” he sighs. “What day is it?”

“Thursday, h-” Ah. Probably better to not use pet names. Tim cuts himself off before honey can drip from his lips with a clearing of his throat. “It’s Thursday.”

“Okay. I... I need to go shopping on Saturday. And, um. That will explain more,” Nick starts to babble, “I’m sorry I don’t know how to say it, I-”

“Nick? You’re shaking.”

“I know. I’m alright.”

His teeth practically chatter, and Tim just sighs fondly.

“No, you’re not,” Tim says plainly. “you’re either stressed or cold.” If only there was an easier way to take care of Nick. “We can go talk in my room. I... I’d prefer it if you stayed with me tonight,” Tim confesses, guilty for wanting Nick safe at his side forever or at least until he’s fed and soothed and safe, truly safe, never to be harmed again. At least let him hold Nick close tonight. Please, just for tonight, if never again. Nick needs it right now.

Meekly, Nick nods and follows Tim inside. He’s still shaking, even in the warmer environment of the shop. Tim tries to let Nick be and not pay too much attention, of course Nick will need some time to come down from his intense fear. He’s not sure what the cause is - not that Nick has to tell him, by any means - but hopefully that is behind them, and Nick will be able to get some rest, now.

Tim lets Nick sit on the bed before he himself gets situated, partially out of kindness and hospitality but also to let him be as comfortable as possible. The little quartz crystal still rests on the bed as well, watching all their mishaps the same way it has watched hundreds of years. “Do you want more water?” he asks absentmindedly, hoping Nick will give him something simple to do, a gross oversimplification of their struggles tonight, something quick and clean to solve a mess.

Nick shakes his head, no, and his hands knead at his own thighs as he sits on Tim’s bed. The sheets rustle beneath them as Tim sits down, too, and Tim raises a cautious hand towards Nick’s ears again. If Tim had any doubts about Nick, they’re all dispelled as soon as Tim’s fingertips brush against Nick’s ears and Nick leans into his touch. Tim’s touches keep running over Nick’s ears, light and warm and hopefully soothing. It seems to work, too, by how much Nick’s eyelids droop and how his head sinks with sleepiness before jolting back up as he forces himself to stay awake. Tim fetches his pyjamas, the simplest things he has in the dusty drawers, and Nick changes quickly as Tim turns his back.

He, too, puts on some pyjamas - a too-big t-shirt and sweatpants. The world will go on even if he doesn’t shower tonight, and, judging by how not-wet Nick’s hair feels when Tim is at his side again and Nick pushes his face into Tim’s chest and Tim soothes him with gentle hands, Nick hasn’t had the presence of mind to shower either. Nick still trembles under Tim’s touch, poor thing. Slowly, Tim lets go of Nick to sit at his side, and Nick’s head follows Tim’s chest and stays there even as they lie down and Tim lays a protective arm over Nick’s shoulder as they face each other.

It’s silent for a while, with naught but the night winds and city noises infiltrating Tim’s quiet, peaceful room. Nick snuggles against him, probably glad simply to have warmth. He’s still shaking, but less so, now. Perhaps the worst has passed.

“Tim?” Nick asks somewhere in the night. It pierces the silence, cleaving it into two pieces that rapidly fall away, too.

“Yes?” Tim mumbles.

“You were chattery today. You said something funny happened.”

“Yeah.”

“What was it?”

“Oh,” Tim smiles faintly at the memory. “It was a pair of birds in the apple trees. They weren’t scared of me, they let me get pretty close to take pictures of them.”

“Oh,” says Nick dumbly. Maybe he just needs a distraction from the thoughts clouding his mind. Tim is more than happy to provide that. He grabs his phone from the nightstand with a quick levia and swipes through.

“Here’s the picture... see? My camera isn’t good but they’re cute,” Tim says of the two birds with splendid plumage, one in flash golds and yellows and reds and the other in a dusky red-purple.

“Do you think they’re still out there? They don’t look like northern birds,” Nick frets.

“They flew off, but I think they’ll be alright.” In fact, they’re probably under some god’s protection, judging on how they were so fearless and observant of Tim when he had been in the garden. Maybe there really is a god who has chosen to watch over them tonight. “And I can put out a tray of birdseed tomorrow, just in case.”

“Okay,” Nick says in a voice so small it melts Tim’s sleepy, loving heart. “I’m sorry I’m such a bother,” he adds.

A sad coo threatens to escape Tim’s throat, but he holds it back at the last second, just a hint too shy of caring too much about Nick for the time being. “You’re not a bother to me,” Tim says instead. “You’re a sweetheart, Nick. I mean- you know I like you.”

And yet, Nick trembles in his arms even after hours. “Are you sure you like me?”

“Yeah.” It’s a simple answer, but it is what it is. Tim’s love is plain and obvious and clear and unabashed - it never needed or wanted to hide, not even now with Nick in his arms.

“Even- oh, gods, it’s so late,” Nick gasps, cutting himself off. “I’m so sorry,” he blathers on, interrupting any attempt from Tim to reassure him, “I’ll shut up, I’m so sorry, you probably wanted to sleep- ugh, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re alright, Nick. I wouldn’t stay awake if I didn’t want to,” Tim murmurs against Nick’s soft hair and ears.

“Everyone says that,” Nick whispers. “Please just tell me if I annoy you, I’m sorry, I-” A whimper breaks through his lips. If the light were any better, Tim fears he might see tears in Nick’s eyes, and so much achy sadness wells in Tim’s own heart as he cups Nick’s head close. “I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry enough,” Nick says into Tim’s chest.

“Nick... get some rest, alright?” Tim sighs, unsure of what else to do. What can he say when Nick is like this, so scared and fretful and anxious? “We’ll talk about it tomorrow when our heads are clearer.”

“Okay,” Nick says in that horribly small voice, a weak remnant of the man who used to laugh and tease and flirt with Tim.

“Goodnight, Nicky.”

“ ‘night...”

\---

Tim wakes up again in the middle of the night, when Nick tries to weasel out of his arms. Luckily, Tim’s reflex is to be clingy, and so Nick can’t get away easily, not out of Tim’s tight hug, not even with his clever tactic of shifting into a cat to slink away.

But Tim sits up and holds onto his paw, and Nick changes back into a man sitting on the side of Tim’s bed, and Tim holds his hand.

“Is something wrong?”

Nick doesn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t sleep,” he murmurs. “I never do, around this time. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry,” and his voice falls into a whisper, choked with an emotion Tim can’t quite find the precise word for, somewhere between sorrow and regret and self-hate.

“That’s alright. You don’t normally get up, do you?” Tim wonders aloud, sleepy and confused.

“Not normally, no,” Nick confesses.

“Then you can lie down again,” Tim suggests. “Did I grab you in my sleep or something?”

“N-no.”

“...alright.” Why is he trying to get up, then?

“Thanks, Tim.”

“You should try to get some sleep, though, hon,” Tim murmurs, not even questioning the sleepy endearment that slips past his lips.

“I will,” Nick promises. “But I, um, there’s something I want to get done. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

But before Tim can get out of bed and properly stand up, Nick frantically shoves him back down by the shoulders.

And he springs away with a horrified expression as Tim coughs with the impact. Tim winces - the stitches tugged, it hurts a little, now that the anaesthetic has worn off with sleep and time - and can’t help but touch at the tender, red marks newly decorating his face. He hadn’t thought much of the wounds yesterday aside from cleaning them and getting everything safely situated so he could take care of Nick. It’s starting to sink in now.

When Tim recovers from the jolt and the sudden ache and looks up again, Nick is gone, and there’s a flash of a yellow tabby tail darting through the door.

“Zyra, Nick.”

Tim rolls out of bed and chases Nick down the stairs.

“Nick,” he pants, body surprised by the sudden effort. “Nick? Where are you?”

There’s only a quiet scratching of claws and paws against wooden flooring to give Tim direction, at first. Reflective eyes help, too, once Tim has his bearings, and he turns on one of the tableside lamps next to their cosy chairs. Nick is under this one, hiding in the back corner where Tim cannot reach him with hands. Tim reaches an arm slowly out anyway, a hand that offers help and acceptance but does not force it. A tiny meow answers him.

“You don’t have to do anything. I just don’t want you stuck there,” Tim soothes. “I mean, I’d like to sit on the chair with you, but you don’t have to.”

For a while, Nick just watches his face, trying to discern anything other than sleepiness and patience in his looks, but there is no other confession written in Tim’s eyes. With that reassurance, Nick slowly creeps out just enough to hold onto Tim’s hand - thankfully not with his claws, this time - while Tim pulls him out into a warm embrace.

Nick mews and rubs his face against Tim’s chin.

“You can’t keep running away,” Tim pleads as he sits on the plush chair, with Nick in his lap, held comfortably tight in Tim’s arms. “Are you scared of me?”

The cat shakes its head.

“What are you scared of?”

Silently, Nick curls closer, ears flattened as though he’s terrified and yet... He’s warm and soft in Tim’s arms, and he rests his little cat-head in the crook of Tim’s neck and puts his little paws on Tim’s chest. His fur is cosy, a bit dusty but nothing unpleasant. The little rustle of his breath against Tim’s chest acts as the bellows for a warm, loving fire inside him. Little ears flick, tapping against Tim’s neck as they try to knock away tickly bits of Tim’s fluffy hair, and Tim could cry with how lovely it feels to hold Nick like this. He’s so small as a cat, and cute, and sweet - not that he isn’t always cute and sweet! - but it calls back memories Tim missed. Soves is a lovely cat, but she doesn’t like touch in the same way that Dracarys loved watching over Tim from his side and Shadow took up a spot in Tim’s lap as though he had always belonged there. Tim is glad he’s back.

Even if he’s been with Tim all along.

Actually, that just makes everything feel even sweeter, and more confusing and complex.

Tim feels his heart throb with love at the same time that it aches with worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can confirm the anxiety technique used is effective (for me at least) and helpful, especially during panic attacks! it's called the 54321 Grounding Method or other variants
> 
> i hope you liked this chapter <3
> 
> next chapter in two weeks on Wednesday as per usual!


	23. Tea and Tuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. here it is.

If he’s being honest, despite the sudden and deep anger in his heart at Nick, wanting to have his retribution or revenge or something against the man who has perhaps irreversibly marked Tim’s face, Oskar does feel a little bad for him. He’s upset at how Nick decided to reveal his ixtal side, in the end. But though Oskar has never been ashamed of himself, he understands the sentiment, and Nick seems like he’s been through enough to have bad experiences with almost everything. Poor guy.

“Five minutes,” says Jus, being far too kind as always, and Oskar gives him a glare.

You know he needs to get to the doctor faster than that, Oskar tells him telepathically.

Not now, Oskar, Jus answers, his terseness noticeable.

Oskar shelves the thought for later, or maybe never. Jus made his decision, and Oskar supposes Tim wouldn’t have settled for anything else. Sorry, Oskar replies as Tim carries Nick in his arms. An indescribable thought of affirmation is Jus’s return.

As Jus frantically calls Aaron, hoping either the doctor himself or one of his assistants is at the desk, Oskar keeps a careful ear cocked to any noises from Tim’s room. Mostly quiet murmurs, for now, but Oskar’s protective instincts remain on alert.

“We’re good for a walk-in appointment,” Jus says, putting away his phone at last.

“Good.”

“Should he walk? I can carry him, that would be better, no?” Jus frets.

“No.” Gently, Oskar runs his hand over Jus’s shoulder, letting his witch melt into a hug.

“You’re right, someone needs to stay with Nick,” Jus muses quietly.

Well, that isn’t exactly how Oskar had thought of it. “And you’re picking me,” he answers drolly. Of course, this is simply how it must go - Oskar is averagely-versed in magic, but the strength needed to carry Tim is something Oskar has only physically, whereas Jus is more than strong enough to lift Tim with his magic.

“No other options, sadly,” says Jus with a grimace. He turns away to fidget with a wet spot on the countertop, then gets a rag and wipes up a spatter of blood on the floor.

Maybe Oskar underestimated Jus’s reaction.

A few soft thoughts and warm, loving puppy noises through their mental connection and at least Oskar has won himself a quiet, sad gaze. Jus’s eyes are too pretty to be ruined so. Moving slowly and deliberately, Oskar kneels next to where Jus sits on the floor, a rag in one hand and a spray bottle of disinfectant in the other. His hands ease their ways under Jus’s beautiful, strong hands. His theft complete, Oskar wipes up the rest. There’s only a few droplets, and it’s quick work for Oskar’s steadier grip.

When he’s done, he puts the cleaning supplies on a table and holds Jus’s hand. “It’ll be alright,” he murmurs. “Love conquers all, and all that.”

“Now is not the time,” Jus chides through their mental connection. He only barely manages to get the words out before his voice wavers.

“Sorry.”

Jus watches the clock on the fridge aimlessly tick down.

It reads two minutes and a handful of seconds, and Oskar awkwardly puts his arms around Jus. “It’ll be alright,” Oskar murmurs.

“I’m not worried about us in this equation,” comes Jus’s answer, harsh and biting and dulled with his worry.

Bowing his head, Oskar can’t help but agree.

\---

Tim descend the stairs soon enough, though for Jus it’s still far too long. Part of him wants nothing more than to melt into Oskar’s arms again and let the ache in his heart dissolve in warm fur. He can’t help but feel a little guilty, after all. Maybe if he had made Tim and Nick talk, or pushed Nick to come out on his own terms instead of being frightened into it by a rough day... maybe then this wouldn’t have happened.

Another part of him reminds Jus that some things simply are inevitable. It’s not like the situation was stable; the blame hardly lies with Jus for the disruption of such a volatile balance of relationships platonic and romantic. Perhaps he should simply be grateful no one is severely injured. Tim’s injuries, though one or two did look deep, will likely remain superficial. He’ll heal soon. And Tim and Nick might fare better now that they’ve become more transparent with each other - no more Tim interrupting Oskar and Jus’s cuddle nights to bemoan his state of affairs with Nick, or at the very least such events will be less common. Jus hopes the best for the both of them.

For now, though, as Oskar helps Tim sit down in a light but comfy chair and dabs away a bit of blood, Jus calls ahead to let Aaron know they’re on their way with some pretty bad injuries from a cat. Then, Jus’s magic lifts the chair with Tim in it, and they’re off on the short trip.

The walk to Aaron’s clinic is more tense than Jus ever remembers it, though the blood still trailing down Tim’s face and soaking through the bandages certainly dampens the mood, as do Tim’s soft sighs of pain every so often and the way the feet of the chair Tim is in sometimes knock against the concrete. Jus is a good witch, still, at least. Moving the chair with Tim on top isn’t hard in terms of spell, but it requires magic strength and energy. Luckily, Jus has all three, and they breeze into the clinic’s lobby without trouble.

“Tim Lipovsek?” the woman at the front desk asks.

“Yes, this is him,” Jus answers. “I’m Jus Marusic.”

“Oh, right! Yes, thank you for bringing him so quickly. We’ll just...” She trails off and checks a few files on the computer. “Alright. Follow me.”

They lay Tim down in a comfortable chair for stability, one of the kind that reclines back to keep him properly positioned. Everything feels like a blur, if Jus is honest, but thankfully Aaron knows them well; he can handle this situation with ease, or at least as much ease as can be expected when Tim has suddenly been mauled by a cat. Every stitch looks excruciatingly painful, but Tim only has local anaesthetic and he seems fine. He’s always had a better tolerance for this kind of stuff, though.

Jus hasn’t had good experiences with hospitals.

He squeezes Tim’s hand a bit hard, perhaps - Tim squeezes back even as the needle and its trailing thread slip through his skin. Poor Tim, he looks so tired. Ah, but Jus needs to get it together. He’s not the one under the bright lamp Aaron uses to see, or the needle’s ministrations, or the strain and confusion of loving someone who has accidentally hurt him.

A little, warm thought pricks at the side of his consciousness. Oskar must be feeling Jus’s stress through their connection.

Jus bundles up his own thought of love and gratefulness and sends it back to Oskar, then dutifully listens as Aaron outlines how to care for Tim’s stitches. “If you get a fever,” Aaron warns, “call me. Right away. Anything over 38 - you said the cat was a stray?”

“Pretty much,” Jus fibs. He can’t be certain how clean Nick’s claws are.

“There’s a risk of cat-scratch disease, then. It’s not serious or life-threatening, so don’t be worried, but watch for red streaks, sore spots - especially here,” Aaron gestures to his own throat, “anything about the wound that doesn’t look like it’s healing right, and especially the fever.”

“Understood,” Jus murmurs. Tim nods his head, too, fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the fresh gauze taped over his puncture wounds and the adhesive bandage on his nose.

A few more minutes for the anaesthetic to wear off enough that Tim won’t get too dizzy from being carried back and for them to get Tim situated in the chair again, and then Jus is off, his magic holding Tim aloft again. Even with how tired he looks, though, Tim still is jittery and fidgety, his fingertips poking and pulling at each other and the hem of Tim’s apron - bloodstained, now. Jus will have to make him a new one, and he’ll have to embroider it again.

For now, Jus tries to get Tim home as quickly as possible, both for Tim’s own sake and for Nick’s, and, though Jus doesn’t want to be selfish, for his sanity as well.

\---

Oskar isn’t sure what’s going on in the attic, but the semi-constant shuffling of items and the occasional sniffle can’t indicate anything good, especially when Tim put Nick to bed just a few minutes ago. Patiently, Oskar tries to ignore it. Nick probably needs some time alone to breathe, anyway, or so Oskar tells himself.

It gets harder to ignore the clattering as time goes on. Oskar may be a hunting dog by breed but he's a guard dog by training and years of watching out for Jus and Tim and their friends, and right now, his instincts for a situation likely to go bad are firing full throttle. He knows Nick is already in a pretty bad state of mind - Jus had told him mentally of having to send Nick to take a nap, and how his ears had slipped out before. That's a pretty clear sign of an ixtal who's a little out of control. Especially since Oskar has never seen Nick forget about his ears or be caught in a transition between forms. Ever. 

So maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea Oskar has had, to go check on Nick and make sure he’s getting the rest he needs.

As he ascends the stairs, first one set to the living space and then another to the attic and Nick’s makeshift room, the noises Oskar hears get louder. Distinct shuffling, moving things around. A taste of urgency seeps into Oskar’s step, and he throws open the trapdoor to the attic with too much violence and worry, frightening Nick, who yelps and shifts into a cat, then back into a human in the blink of an eye. His eyes are watery and red-lined.

“Sorry,” Oskar says, now slow and mindful of the effect even slight movements might have on Nick. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Though, judging by the state of Nick’s room - desk covered in little trinkets that normally would be stowed away, old shoddy wardrobe flung wide open and empty, that same battered suitcase Nick arrived with now lying on the ground with Nick’s sparse clothing tucked away inside - more than just Oskar has startled Nick.

In fact, if Oskar didn’t know better, he might even think Nick was packing to leave. But that’s not the case, right? “What are you doing?” he asks conversationally, trying not to push Nick any more than he’s already been pushed today.

“P-packing,” Nick stammers. “I- I’m sorry,” and he stands up from where he had been kneeling to pack and faces Oskar, staring at his feet the entire time. “I... I should have known I overstayed my welcome. And- will- could you give this to Tim? When he gets back? I don’t-”

“What?” Oskar blusters as Nick pushes a scrap of paper into his hands. Oskar doesn’t even bother to read it beyond noting it lists an apology in chicken-scratch and too many words to be anything but incoherent, anxiety-driven blathering. “Nick, what are you talking about, quit packing your bags.” Well- bag, but Oskar dismisses the urge to crack a joke.

“But- but I- No, I can’t- I hurt him,” Nick sniffles.

“And?”

“No, you don’t-”

“No one,” Oskar says, “no one, is kicking you out, Nick.” Slowly, hands cautious, eyes judging every move like the hunting dog Oskar is, Oskar reaches out until Nick’s thin, bony shoulders are in his grasp again. “Nick, we all want you here,” he says firmly. “Didn’t Tim tell you to stay?”

“Yes, but-”

“It’s just the anxiety talking,” Oskar soothes. “Just the anxiety.”

Nick’s face crumples, and, though he seems to be all cried out, the verge of tears isn’t far away for him, judging by the faint rhythm of a sob clinging to his breathing.

“Nick. Are you thinking?”

“Yes,” Nick whimpers, refusing to look Oskar in the eye.

“Nick, come on. Let’s get you tucked in Tim’s bed, alright? He’ll be home soon,” Oskar croons gently. “The worst thing you can do right now is act rashly. Come on.”

Meekly, Nick totters after Oskar as Oskar leads him to Tim’s room, where he looks right at home and yet out of place in his frantic state. It takes a little awkward soothing, but Oskar does eventually get him to lie down in bed with the blankets tucked in over him, reassuring both Nick and Oskar of Nick’s safety.

Tim would murder Oskar if Nick ran away on his watch, and Oskar would murder Nick in turn.

Not literally.

There’s a light prickling at the sides of Oskar’s mind, probably Jus warning him to not do whatever he’s thinking about even though the distance is so great that Jus can only feel Oskar’s disgruntled nature, not his jokingly murderous rage. Oskar sends back a gentle, smiling balm to ease Jus’s worry. He has enough to worry about right now.

“Sleep well, Nick.”

“I’ll try,” Nick answers with an awkward combination of a laugh and a sob.

Oskar dips his head and goes to leave, but hesitates at the door’s threshold. Maybe... A gesture of goodwill. Nick could certainly use one. With light footsteps, Oskar returns to Nick’s side, where his head lays under one of Tim’s pillows, blocking out the world. A gentle finger runs over the edge of the blanket on Nick’s shoulder. Gently, Oskar gives him a pat. “It’ll be alright. Tim is nice like that,” he says firmly. “He won’t be upset. None of us are.”

Nick’s shoulder shakes under Oskar’s hand, but there’s a little, weak, trembly hum from under the pillow smushed over Nick’s face, and Oskar chuckles like a father seeing the first sign of cheeriness back on his sad child’s face.

“I’m gonna make some dinner, now,” Oskar says, “let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll just be downstairs.”

Nick nods and the pillow shifts, and so with one last pat to Nick’s shoulder, Oskar leaves for the kitchen.

There’s a lot on his mind as he descends the stairs, almost too much - he would never call himself clingy, but there’s something to be said for sharing his life with Jus and never really having to face too much all on his own. It’s a comfortable reliance between them, a reliance that isn’t troublesome but is loving and flexible, too; after all, how would they make enough room for their other third without flexibility? Oskar sends off a strong spark of light through his mental connections, knowing a good portion of the magic will fizzle out by the time it reaches Jus and most of it will fall away on its journey to wherever their other boyfriend is, but hopefully one small spark will reach him. He should hopefully be making his way home soon. It’s already starting to get terribly cold at night.

Hands moving like a piano’s machinery, Oskar makes quick work of the vegetables Jus had wanted to cook for dinner before being called away so suddenly. The last few late-summer squashes succumb to his culinary skills, as does a cabbage, and Oskar has a simple fried rice served up too quickly. Jus and Tim still aren’t even home yet... Mildly concerned, Oskar sends Jus a text and leaves the kitchen to peer out of the shop’s front windows. They’re closed up, and it’s dark out, and- Oskar doesn’t really know what he expected, but he had hoped he might catch some sort of glimpse of them. There’s still nothing in the darkness, or at least no pair of people scurrying along, Jus still in his shop apron. Oskar watches a few couples wander the streets on their mid-autumn dates under the streetlights.

Still no Jus or Tim.

Sighing, Oskar lets his dog-ears and tail out and picks up a book from their shop bookshelf by the comfy chairs. Better to occupy his mind right now, with metaphoric stories of wilderness and survival, rather than to leave it empty for unhelpful thoughts to run rampant.

Somewhere along the first few pages Oskar reads, soft footsteps announce Nick’s arrival on the steps. “Going outside for a bit,” he rasps. He even holds his body like a scared cat - poor thing.

“Take my coat,” Oskar says as his own form of acknowledgement. Nick’s is so thin, it wouldn’t keep him warm enough anyway and Oskar doesn’t need it for now. They really should see about buying him one as an early Midwinter present, or something.

“I’ll be fi-”

“Nick, take the coat. It’s dark out, by the way,” Oskar adds.

“I’ll take Tim’s coat,” Nick murmurs.

Right, his allergies. Oskar supposes that’s something else they should see about getting for him - allergy medicine, or some other solution for the sniffles. Nick lets out a sharp sneeze as he grabs Tim’s coat with awkward hands and puts it on, the fuzzy lining keeping him much warmer than his tattered alternative. It looks somehow too big on him, even though his shoulders are slightly wider than Tim’s and he’s definitely taller. How has it taken Oskar so long to realise how thin Nick is? They really need to feed him more. “Don’t stay out too long,” Oskar warns gently. “You’ll catch cold, or something worse.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Nick quietly says.

“Maybe. But you don’t have to, now,” Oskar points out, “so don’t push yourself. I’ll check on you in about 30 minutes, okay? Tim should be back by then.”

At the doorway and the sound of Tim’s name, Nick hesitates. “Oskar?” he asks, voice small, kittenlike.

“Yes?”

“How badly did I hurt Tim? Physically, I mean,” Nick clarifies as he watches Oskar struggle with the words.

And even then, Oskar doesn’t know exactly what to say. “One cheek torn pretty badly,” he concludes, setting his book down for the moment, “and a slash on his nose and some holes on his other cheek. I think the torn cheek needs stitches - that’ll be why it’s taking so long,” he explains.

Nick stares at the floor. “Do you know what he likes best? Like… breakfast? And- and dinner?”

“Why?” Oskar pries cautiously.

“I... I feel horrible,” Nick mumbles. “I need to do something for him. It... I’m sorry,” he trails off, voice choking in tears and, after a few moments, muffling in Oskar’s shoulder.

“Tell him when he comes back, okay?” Oskar says softly, rubbing Nick’s shoulder as he hugs the cat ixtal, having already gotten up from his seat to comfort him. “Talk it out. Get some rest, too - Jus and I will manage the morning shift tomorrow, don’t even worry about it.” The last thing Nick needs right now is more work to handle. 

“I can’t not worry,” Nick laughs and sobs, “that’s not how it-” He cuts himself off and bites his lip.

“Alright, coat off,” Oskar says with the gentle firmness of a displeased parent. “I’ll make us some tea. Come on,” he murmurs as he shepherds Nick to the kitchen. “Sit down.”

Oskar can hear Nick raking his nails along his tattered jeans as he sits and the water slowly heats to a boil as Oskar warms his hands over the residual heat. It’s not like Oskar has anything to say to fill the silence, though. The noise is kind of nice, to be honest - faint, gentle, enough to ease the quiet and meld with the whistling of the wind outside - but he can’t imagine it’s any good for Nick’s jeans, already worn almost see-through at the knees, and not in the fashionable, newly-bought way. If the bank still struggles to get Nick’s paycheck properly sent out even after this weekend, Oskar and Jus really should see about just transferring him a good sum of money to get himself situated.

“Nick? Why don’t you go check on the succulents by the window, those need some water by now, probably.” Something to do to keep his mind busy without being too much for his weary body. “Watering can is on the floor to the right,” Oskar reminds him as he dazedly wanders over. Nick’s ears have slipped out again, but Oskar doesn’t bother to point it out this time; it doesn’t matter any more since everyone in their house knows. On some level, it is nice to not have to worry about keeping the secret any more, but there will of course still be a lot to work out between those two, poor things. Before he forgets, Oskar sends out a little call to Jus through their mental bond, telling him to ask Tim about the situation just to get a better tactical read if they can. Of course, Oskar has no idea how bad the injuries are; for all Oskar knows, Tim has stitches all over his face.

But for now, Nick is checking the succulents’ pots, and Oskar is making tea. Maybe they both need to give their minds a firm break.

As Nick wars with whatever monsters in his head keep him up at night, Oskar watches, gently letting him work through what he needs to on his own, but with company. He doesn’t really know how best to approach such a topic he has no idea about, anyway. Tim’s anxieties made him withdraw, collapse. Locking up his roots, in a sense, the same way Tim sometimes has to trim his potted plants’ roots - Oskar remembers frequently having to prove himself kind and gentle and generally not an ass before Tim ever started to open up around him. He’s different now, with years of building his comfort and establishing his roots in the shop, and less distrustful. But Oskar still remembers those early years.

Nick, however, seems to have held so much stress inside him that the dam was bound to burst. Part of Oskar is mostly surprised at how long it took for the weight to crush him.

...Jus’s empathy is starting to leak into him, it seems. He finds himself with a weird urge to make soup, but that’s a lot of work for a weekday, and dinner has already been made. Speaking of that-

“Are you hungry?” Oskar asks gently. “I made fried rice.” He stands up, then hesitates. “Sorry if this is a weird annoying question- do you like tuna? We have some canned tuna around here somewhere, you can have that if you’re not in the mood for fried rice.”

Nick blinks up at him slowly, through exhausted eyes and a face more gaunt than Oskar remembers, though perhaps he’s just now realising the way Nick has been for a few days. “That sounds nice,” he murmurs.

“Good,” Oskar nods approvingly. The tuna will be good for him, and something he’ll enjoy the same way Oskar loves gnawing on steak bones even in his fully-human form; as Nick follows him back to the .

Soon enough, Nick has worked his way through enough of the tuna that Oskar feels comfortable taking his vigilant gaze elsewhere. Jus and Nick still aren’t home, but there’s no reason for alarm just yet; Jus has already texted Oskar about the delay from stitching and so they’ll be on their way soon. In the meantime, Oskar cleans up the kitchen, rubbing at imaginary spots on the countertop until it shines.

“...Oskar?” Nick asks softly, breaking the silence between them.

“Yes?” Oskar answers.

“Can- I mean, I probably- I should- there’s something you should probably know. About- I-”

“It’s okay,” Oskar soothes. “You can tell me.”

And then Nick tells Oskar the final, centre truth.

\---

Tim returns to quite the rush around the house. As Jus steps forward in cautious movements, clearly holding himself back, Tim darts upstairs. There are new marks on his face, a pattern of stitches along one side and bandages over what must be the other sources of the blood that had streamed down Tim’s face earlier. Oskar’s heart hurts to see him like this. He knows he should be kinder, try to open his heart a little more and be gentler, but gods does it hurt. He’s been too unable to help Tim in all the past stories, and he’s too protective for his own good, and he wants nothing more than revenge but Tim’s happiness, and so Oskar packages up his anger and puts it in a neat magical parcel and sends it through the airwaves to Jus for safekeeping.

Jus answers it with a note of love and his warmth falling into Oskar’s arms as soon as Tim is out of sight. “Did it go well?” Oskar frets.

“Fine,” Jus answers, voice clipped with exhaustion. “No complications. I was probably more scared than Tim was.”

“You seem tired.”

“Not magically,” he sighs. “Only mentally.”

“Oh, Jusi.” But before Oskar can soothe the tiredness with a kiss, Tim reappears.

Those new markings on his thin, solemn face still look so stark, black stitches against pale, burning-red skin.

“O-Oskar?” Tim stammers. “Where’s Nick? Where did he-”

Oskar nods towards the door to the garden, only realising his mistake when Tim’s face goes ghastly pale, poor thing. “He’s waiting for you,” he adds for clarification, lest Tim assume Nick has run away. Now that Oskar thinks about it, he did make that attempt once before, though as Shadow and not Nick.

A pattern, it would seem, or at least the beginnings of one.

And despite the kindness he’d shown Nick just half an hour ago, an aching anger begins to grow from a speck in Oskar’s heart. For now, he watches on as Tim rushes outside to be with the one he loves and as Jus leans into him with that tired partial-smile, the one that says he’s too exhausted to communicate properly but still wants to apologise for the burden he puts upon his boyfriend.

Though the burden is hardly more than a feather on Oskar’s shoulders, Oskar doesn’t mind gently corralling Jus into the kitchen for a quick, quiet meal, then upstairs for cuddles and relaxation for Jus. Oskar even breaks out the good candles for his sweetheart’s tenseness, the kind infused with rose and magic.

As Oskar slowly trails his fingers over the curve of Jus’s waist, Jus sighs into him, letting go of the day bit by bit. Their cuddling is normal, yes, but the mood is rather different tonight.

It’s been a rough day.

“So,” Oskar says softly to Jus in his mind. “How are you holding up?”

“Better than Tim,” Jus jokes without mirth. But Oskar can tell he’s not quite telling the truth. Hospitals are hard for him, after- after all that Anton had gone through, and Tim’s pneumonia that still leaves him weak to slight colds. Carefully, Oskar skims his fingertips over Jus’s back, smoothing the soft fabric of his nightshirt and massaging little patterns into the skin beneath. “Thanks, babe.”

Oskar lets their conversation dissolve into swirling colours, nonsensical feelings and sparks of emotion paired with images, words, short phrases, disjointed flickers of memories and sensations of kisses, cuddling, warmth. It’s nice to have such a connection, that both of them understand wordlessly. With the proximity as Oskar leans closer and touches their foreheads together, their minds almost begin to blend into one. Oskar can’t tell where his thoughts end and where Jus’s begin, but does he really care? Memories of their past, old dates in the diners and kissing Jus at every festival, their familiar bonding ceremony and the knots they tie every year, symbolic of another year together, every kiss and every touch and every night under blankets scented with dried flower petals, every passing thought flows between their minds in a beautiful stream of togetherness.

“Do you think we should have stepped in?” the thought coalesces out of the ethereal chaos between them. “Something, to keep Tim safe? He’ll have those scars for ages...” Jus points out, his face crushed into the expression of sadness Oskar knows he wears all too often.

“I think... I think it’s alright,” Oskar answers with soft nuzzles and whuffs into Jus’s hair. “They’ll be alright. And we will too, you know.”

“I know.”

But Jus doesn’t look at him until Oskar kisses his cheek and wags his tail hard enough to thwap against Jus’s leg. “Jus, sweetheart. It’ll be alright.”

“I hope so.”

**Author's Note:**

> ive written the plot sort of like a slice of life anime, so different arcs will come up, too, and seasonal changes and celebrations!
> 
> ALSO: HUGE SHOUTOUT TO @hannivanillie on Twitter! she made art of some characters, which is posted in the chapters! send her love at [twitter.com/hannivanillie](https://twitter.com/hannivanillie) !


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